Daria: The College Years
by Farren O'Blivion
Summary: I'm back! Did you miss me? Probably not, but that's okay. Please read & review; tell me if I lost my "groove."
1. Episode 1: Surprise, Surprise

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 1: Surprise, Surprise

By: Farren O'Blivion

The alarm buzzer went off promptly at eleven o'clock. Daria Morgendorffer didn't look up from her book as she reached to turn it off. She had been wide-awake now for hours, shockingly, too excited to sleep in. Today was Moving Day, the day she left Lawndale behind for good, or at least until Thanksgiving.

Daria glanced at the page number of her book before closing it. She stretched, cracked her knuckles, then swung her jean-clad legs over the edge of her bed and stood up. She looked around her room. Before, it had looked somewhat lived-in, given the ergodic items littering the floor, but now, despite the furniture and TVs, Daria's room just looked... bare.

Daria smirked. _And soon, this room will also be devoid of life. Not that it wasn't to begin with_. She stooped to unzip a small duffel bag at her feet and shoved the book in. _I guess it's time to go_, she thought, unplugging her alarm clock and tossing it in with the book. _I don't want to be late. Or early... Whatever_.

Daria re-zipped her duffel, slung the strap over her shoulder, and walked out the door without looking back. She went down to the kitchen to leave a note for her parents when it happened. Daria Morgendorffer, age eighteen, had a heart-attack. Or at least she thought she did, until she realized a muffled buzz accompanied the strong vibration over her left breast. She sighed irritably as she dug in her pocket for the new cellphone her parents had given her as a farewell present. She pushed the green button.

"Hello?"

"Daria!" Helen Morgendorffer's voiced was laced with worry. "Where are you?"

"Why, in a land called Honalee," Daria snipped in her characteristic monotone. "Why do you ask?"

"Daria."

"I'm still at the house."

"Oh, good! Stay right there, I'm on my way now!" Helen disconnected.

"Mom? ... Mom?" Daria sighed again, then pushed the red button. What was going on? She had said her heartfelt goodbyes to her family the night before. They had places to go, people to sue, things to buy, and far more important things to do after all. It was understood that Daria was to stay her last night in Lawndale at home, but in the morning she would make her way to the Lane's where Jane, Trent, and possibly Jesse Moreno were waiting to take Daria to Boston. Why was her mother putting a crutch in her plans to leave?

The front door opened and a male voice called to her. "Daria! Hey, Kiddo, where are you?"

Daria frowned. Now her father was delaying her, too?

"What's wrong, Dad?" Daria queried, appearing in the living room. "Did Quinn run off and get married to one of the J's? Or all three of them at once?"

"WHAT?!" Jake Morgendorffer yelled, gripping his chest and reeling backward.

"Just kidding, Dad. Quinn would never marry one of the J's," Daria was quick to assure her father. "None of them can afford her maintenance."

"Thank God!" Jake expressed in his highly excitable voice. "Hey, Kiddo, we're here to take you to Jane's for your surprise!"

"What?" Daria asked, completely mystified. "What surprise? Jane's house?"

"Oh, just something your mother and I thought up!" Jake sidestepped answering. "But Quinn helped pick it out! C'mon!"

"Quinn picked...?" _This can't be good._

_

* * *

_

Daria, Jake and Helen pulled up to a two-story off-white house with a rather large, um, sculpture in the front yard. A beaten-nearly-dead, faded black, and bestickered van, dubbed "The Tank," was parked at the curb. Two young men lounged in the yard close by. Daria recognized them as the bassist and drummer for Mystik Spiral, Trent's band. They waved to her as she stepped out of her parents' car.

"Hey, Daria. Congrats on graduating." Nick Campbell called.

"Thanks, Nick."

"Hey, Trent! Daria's here!" Max Tyler shouted at the van. The side door slid open (_Sans plume of smoke_, Daria thought) and out jumped Trent Lane and Jesse Moreno, lead singer and rhythm guitarist for the Spiral, respectively. Trent smiled.

"Hey, Daria," he drawled as Jesse collapsed on the grass next to Nick. "Janey's inside. She and your sister are really pleased with themselves. I think you'll like it, too..." he trailed off.

"Trent, my man!" Jake trilled, walking up to Trent and pumping his hand. Daria saw him lean close and whisper something to the young men. They all smiled and nodded, shooting furtive glances at Daria as they did so. Daria turned to Helen.

"Mom? What's going on?"

Helen glanced at the Lane's front door expectantly. "Nothing much, dear, just a little going away--" she was cut off by the door bursting open and Jane sprinting out toward them.

"Daria! About time! You were supposed to be here hours ago!" Jane said, coming to a halt at Helen's side.

Daria frowned, irritated now at all the secrecy and the conspiracy her parents seemed to be involved in with her only friends. "I was supposed to be here anywhere between eleven and one. It's not even eleven thirty yet."

"Really? Well, I guess I'm just so gosh-darned excited that the time has passed more quickly for me."

"Excited about--"

"Where's Quinn?" Helen asked of Jane.

The girl rolled her eyes skyward. "She just couldn't resist."

"Oh, dear," Helen fretted with a worried glance at the boys. Jane smirked.

"Can we do it now, Helen?" Jake called from in front of the Lane garage. Trent stood beside him. Daria turned to them instead.

"Do what now, exactly?" Their only answers were slow, infuriating grins. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jane signal to the rest of the band; they began to shuffle sideways, shoulder-to-shoulder, up the driveway, their hands behind their backs. Daria didn't believe their innocent smiles for a minute.

Jane began pushing Daria toward the garage. A car door opened then slammed, and Helen rushed by with something cradled to her chest. She stopped beside her husband and exchanged satisfied smiles. As Daria got closer she saw that her mother was holding a camera.

"What the--" she resisted Jane's push.

"Now, boys!" Jane crowed from behind her. Trent and Jake seized the garage door and pulled. It rumbled upward and through the cloud of multicolored confetti the band threw into her face and despite the flashes of Helen's camera, also in her face, Daria saw Quinn perched like a model on the hood of a relatively new Ford.

Her jaw dropped, her eyes bulged, her mind told her that she'd need to destroy the pictures later, but for now all she could do was blink rapidly in shock. Quinn slid gracefully off the Ford's hood and skipped up to her sister with a broad smile. "Well? Do you like it?" Daria was speechless. "Ooh! I _knew_ you would!" Quinn squealed, clapping her hands gleefully. "It's a two-thousand Ford Focus 1.6 LX. It's a Hatchback, but still cool. _I_ picked it out and Jane did all the decal! Did you notice?" Without waiting for an answer Quinn seized Daria's elbow and pulled her into the garage for a closer look.

Daria's slack-jawed expression morphed into a wide grin. The car was an all-over forest green, inspired by her ever-present jacket, no doubt. And the decalcomania was... spectacular. Daria looked to Jane and the two exchanged smirks. "Do you like it?"

"Mere words cannot convey the awe in which I find myself standing..." Daria gestured at the car's side where the phrase 'I refuse to battle wits with an unarmed person' was spelt out in an endless stream of barbed wire. "Jane Lane, you've outdone yourself. How did you manage...?"

Jane shrugged. "I know some guys that would do anything, or _get_ anything, for that matter, for properly cooked bacon."

"Aw, Janey," Trent voiced. "That makes me feel cheap."

"Considering just how much bacon there _was_, you shouldn't."

"You got bacon?!" Nick and Max exclaimed.

Trent gave them a startled look. "Um..."

"You didn't _share_?" Jane demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"I shared with Jesse!" Trent defended himself. Nick and Max rounded on Jesse.

"Congratulations, Daria!" Helen declared, drawing the attention back to the reason for their being gathered.

"Yeah!" Jake chimed in. "Way to go, Kiddo!"

"Happy Birthday, Daria," Jesse proclaimed in his deep, slow voice. His band mates gave him an odd look. "What?"

"It's not her birthday, Numbskull!" Max snapped.

"We're her for her _going-away party_, man," Nick explained.

"Thanks, Jesse," Daria cut in, coming to the slow-witted guitarists defense. "But how did you know that I'd just had my birthday?" Nick and Max swallowed their words as Jesse shrugged, thought about it, then pointed at Trent. "Oh."

"You thought we'd forgotten, didn't you, Kiddo?" Jake laughed.

Daria turned to her parents instead. "Well... it's been a couple weeks and nobody said anything..."

"Oh, honey! We were just busy getting this set up for you!" Helen exclaimed, wrapping her eldest, stiff-backed, daughter in her arms. "We could never just _forget_ your eighteenth birthday!"

"It was sooo much trouble, getting this car for you, Daria," Quinn complained. "Like, I had to ask Ted; you remember Ted, right?; anyway I had to ask him to find the car over the internet and then Mom, Dad and I went to pick it up. We had to drive all the way to Pennsylvania! And then we couldn't find a painter thingy for Jane to use!"

"So here we are, a week late, but no less caring," Helen butted in. She searched her daughter's face. "Do you really like it?"

She couldn't stop herself, she just couldn't... Daria beamed. "I love it. Thank you very much. Thank you _all_ so much."

"So, Daria," Jane said in a game-show host's voice. "You've just won a pretty much _brand new car!_ What are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to Pizza King."

* * *

Jake and Helen had already taken care of the insurance issue regarding Daria's new car. The full-coverage policy was in her name, just like the Focus' title. Jake would pay the insurance for her first year of college, but after that, Daria would need to find her own way to pay for it. But, until then, Daria was set.

Daria and her parents again exchanged their 'goodbyes' and 'good luck for the futures' out on the Lane's front lawn. Jake and Helen left after making Daria swear to be careful on the way to Boston. Quinn had asked if she could tag along to Pizza King. Seeing as how Quinn had helped so much in acquiring the Focus, Daria agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly.

Mystik Spiral led the way with Daria in her Focus following behind. Daria looked over at Quinn, frowning ever-so-slightly. Jane was riding with the band for some reason and Daria suspected that reason was Quinn.

The redhead looked back at her and smiled ever-so-slightly. "Yeah, I asked Jane to ride with them but no, it wasn't just so I'd get to ride in your new car." Daria raised a brow. Quinn sighed. "I wanted to talk to you." Daria raised her other brow. Quinn noticed. "_Really_."

"So? Talk."

The younger girl blew out a breath and fidgeted in her seat. "Well..." Daria waited, scathing remarks at the ready. "Well, you've been in my life my _entire_ life and you're leaving for college, **today**, and I just... It's going to be _weird_ not having you around. I mean, we've never really talked or anything but, you know, I knew you were _there_ and... I mean, you know...?"

Daria gave her little sister a calculating look. Quinn kept her gaze on her manicured nails and waited... "Yeah, I know what you mean, Quinn," Daria assured. "Truth be told, because you _have_ been around so long, us being apart will be weird for me, too."

Quinn looked at her with wide eyes. "Really?" Daria nodded. They drove in silence for a few moments before Quinn finally muttered, "I think I'll miss you, Daria." She blushed as Daria's eyes swung to her in shock but, nevertheless, she continued somewhat defiantly, "We _are_ sisters, after all."


	2. Episode 2: The End of an Era

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 2: The End of an Era

By: Farren O'Blivion

_This day has gone rather well... It can't possibly last_, Daria mused. She and the others were having a surprisingly good time at Pizza King, despite Nick and Max's constant bickering. Quinn, be still her heart, had actually ordered a black olive and mushroom pizza, complete with artery clogging cheese. Daria and Jane had looked stunned but, in her defense, Quinn said only, "Curves are _in_!"

Halfway through their meal (the boys having _inhaled_ their own slices before wandering over to the pinball machine) Daria and Jane were approached by two of their fellow graduates, Mack Mackenzie and Jodie Landon. The two had been a couple for as long as anyone could remember. They went well together and their relationship seemed strong, like it could last through the ages. Daria found herself wondering if it could last through college. She'd never admit it, of course, but Daria liked them and she found herself hoping, for their sake, that they'd be able to handle a long-distance relationship. She just couldn't imagine any other girl for Mack nor any other man for Jodie.

The two newcomers slipped into the previously vacated seats in the girls' corner booth. "Hola amigos!" Jane greeted, a string of cheese dangling from her ruby lips. Mack grinned and wordlessly passed her a napkin.

"Hey, Jane, Daria, Quinn," Jodie nodded to each in turn despite being slightly confused by Quinn's presence. "How're things?"

"In my little world or in reality?" Daria asked, deadpan.

"She got a two-thousand Ford Focus for a birthday-slash-graduation present and she's leaving for Raft this afternoon," Quinn spoke up from around a slice.

Jodie raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Happy birthday, Daria, and congratulations again on Raft."

"Thanks, Jodie. You're headed off to Turner, right?"

"Yes, thanks to my knight in shining armor, here," Jodie beamed, placing a chaste kiss on Mack's cheek. "I _still_ can't believe you went to my father for me! What am I going to do without you?"

Mack put his arm around her and she nestled into his side. He kissed the top of her head. "We'll just have to work around the geography gap. Vance isn't _that _far from Turner. We can make it work."

"Michael, it's two states apart. _How_ are we going to make it work?" Jodie fretted, forgetting to keep her ever-stoic mask in place, despite the current public's eye.

"With lots of horded change for gas and whatever free time we can wring out of our hectic schedules," Mack said matter-of-factly. He shrugged. "I happen to think that you're worth it, Miss Landon."

Jodie smiled again, reassured, and kissed his mouth. "I love you, Michael Mackenzie. Never change."

They pulled apart as a gagging sound came from across the booth. Daria was pounding Quinn on the back perfunctorily as the younger girl held a napkin to her mouth, her eyes streaming. Jodie frowned worriedly. "Quinn, are you okay?"

Quinn bobbed her head up and down in assurance but her gagging continued nevertheless. Jane passed another napkin to Daria with a whispered, "I know she'd hate for her mascara to run."

"We don't need to call nine-one-one, do we?" Mack questioned, watching Quinn with a wary expression. She waved a dismissive hand at him. After a moment of coughs and splutters, she sat up and faced the couple across from her, her chin quivering.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said. "I just—Oh! You two are _so_ **cute** together and—!" She hiccuped and her eyes watered up again. "I mean, you guys _obviously_ love each other so much, and now you'll be so _far apart_, and things'll be so_ hard_, but—but—Oh!" She buried her face in her napkin. "It was **just so sweet **what you said to each other and I—and I—I hope that _I_ get to be so lucky as you!"

"Aw, Quinn!" Jodie soothed, reaching over to pat Quinn's shoulder. "Of course you will! It'll happen for you!"

Daria began to scoot away from her heaving sister. She could feel Jane shaking with silent giggles next to her. Across the table, Mack sat quietly with his eyes averted from the feminine turmoil.

"Wow! Like, what's wrong with Quinn, Jodie?" a bubbly Brittany Taylor asked from out of nowhere. And suddenly the buxom blonde, looking very strange in a short denim skirt and white gauzy blouse, was at their table, enveloping a weepy Quinn in a hug. "Hi, Daria! Hi, Jane!"

"Oh, God," Daria murmured, sliding even closer to Jane. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

A snickering Jane leaned close to her friend's ear, "You'll never escape, Morgendorffer. Never."

"I'm beginning to believe you, Lane."

"Whoa. Like, what happened to her?" Trent's voice came from behind them. Without waiting for an answer, he leaned over the back of the booth, between Jane and Daria, "Hey, Daria. You still want us to go up to Boston with you?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Daria asked, distracted and leaning forward over the table to keep her distance. Too many people were pressing in around her. They were invading her personal bubble.

"Well," Trent continued, oblivious to her discomfort. "You have your own car now, and it's pretty cool. It probably won't break down on you. Not like The Tank."

"Oh," Daria said. "Well, you don't have to come if you don't want to, Trent. It's not like you're obligated or anything. I'll be fine on my own. Besides, you won't be moving up there for another few months, Jane. Why waste the gas now?"

"Hmmm," the musician responded, his dark eyes glittering down at her. "That's not what I asked."

"What?" Daria asked, taken aback by his uncharacteristic reply.

"Come on, amiga," Jane jumped in. "It'll be fun if we all go up there! _I'll_ get to scout for art supply stores, _they'll _get to scout for gigs, _you'll_ get help setting up house, and _we'll_ get to find the next Pizza King! It'll be like the Lawndale Invasion!"

"If you don't _want_ us to come, we won't," Trent said.

"Um... It's really up to you guys."

"What say you, Trent?" Jane turned to her brother.

"Hmmm. I'll have to ask Max. It is his van." He floated away.

"What's wrong with him?" Daria asked Jane under her breath once he'd gone.

"What do you mean, amiga?"

"It's just—" Daria stumbled over her words, suddenly self-conscious and wondering if she were just reading into things. "It's nothing really," she rectified, but Jane wasn't buying it, and she continued to stare at Daria expectantly. She sighed. "He just seemed kind of... forceful."

"_Forceful? Trent?"_

Daria sighed again. "Nevermind."

Jane laughed. "The only thing Trent is forceful about is _not_ getting a job!"

"Damn, Jane," Daria said, picking at her leftover pizza crusts. "How could you ever expect Trent to _compromise his art _by getting a job? Foolish girl."

Jane snorted loudly into her near-empty soda glass. The table's occupants turned to her. "Are _you_ upset, _too_, Jane?" Brittany queried, twirling one of her pigtails absently.

* * *

It was decided that Mystik Spiral would lead the way to Boston in The Tank with Daria and Jane following close in the Focus. That way, if The Tank broke down, as it was prone to do, the boys wouldn't be left behind to their own devices. That settled, goodbyes were, yet again, in order. Mystik Spiral would wait in the van.

And it was to Daria's immense disquiet that a weepy eyed Quinn wrapped her in a final hug in front of _witnesses_, no less, before being led off by Brittany who'd offered to take her home.

"Bye, guys! Have fun at college!" Brittany called from across the parking lot. "Go Great Prairie State!" She hopped into her car, Quinn buckled in the passengers seat, and zoomed out of the lot's far exit. As they passed by on the main street, Quinn rolled down her window.

"Bye Daria! Call me when you get settled, okay? Bye Jane! See you later!" She smiled, waved and was gone.

"It's time for us to be moving on, as well," Mack said, jingling his keys. "It's a long drive to Turner."

"And an even longer one to Vance." Jodie snaked an arm around his waist. "But distance doesn't matter."

"Not in the least," Mack answered, gazing at his girlfriend with googley eyes. Jane and Daria side-glanced at each other. The same thought passed between them: _Thank God Quinn's gone_.

Mack held out his hand to Daria. "Later, Daria. I'm glad I met you. It was amusing while it lasted." They shook and he turned to Jane. "Jane. We've known each other for a long time... I don't know what to say."

"Aw, shucks," Jane scuffed her boot on the asphalt coyly. "You're making me blush."

Mack laughed. "I will miss that wit of yours, Jane Lane."

"Jeez, Mack! Enough with singing my praises! Jodie's _right there!_"

Jodie stepped forward and embraced each girl in a brief hug. "I wish you luck in all your future endeavors. Oh, and be sure to RSVP the five-year reunion invitations when you get them." She pulled back and smiled. "I'm on the committee."

"Some things never change," Daria drawled. They all smirked. Then Jodie took Mack's arm, gave a small wave, Mack, a cordial nod, and they walked off toward Mack's car. They followed Brittany's earlier path and exited onto the main street. Mack honked twice. And they were gone.

* * *

"Well, amiga. I guess it's about time for us to hit the ol' dusty trail, too."

"I guess so. Let's go wake the Spirals and be done with this place."

"At least for the weekend, in my case."

Daria slid into her Focus while Jane went to tap on The Tank's windows. Daria watched her gesture to her brother through the van's dirty, unworkable window. He must have understood because Jane nodded, gave him the thumbs up sign, and walked back over to Daria. The Tank rumbled to life, blue smoke pouring out of the tailpipe as it made it's way out of the lot. Daria followed.

Jane buckled herself in as they pulled out. "He said the band is excited about Boston. He wanted to know if they could possibly crash with you for the weekend while they looked for gigs. I told him I'd talk to you about it."

Daria's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "All of them? For a whole weekend?"

"Getting excited about the possibilities, Daria?" Jane teased.

Daria scoffed. "What possibilities? The possibility that all they'll do is sleep and _not_ look for gigs? The possibility that they'll eat me out of room and board? Or the ever-likely _probability_ that they'll get wasted at an early kegger and get _me _thrown out of Raft because _they_ set something on fire?"

"That's harsh, amiga."

"Harsh is what I do."

"Just remember that, as long as _they're_ there, so am I," Jane informed the smaller girl. "Hey, look. 'You are now leaving Lawndale.'... Do you think looking back is bad luck?"

"Probably."

"Oops."

Daria glanced at her friend and smirked. "Just a hometown girl at heart, aren't we, Jane Lane?"

"Oh, no. No, I leave the sentimental stuff to you, my good Morgendorffer."

Daria smirked again. And glanced into her rear view mirror.


	3. Episode 3: Of Freeloaders & Roommates

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 3: Of Freeloaders & Roommates

By: Farren O'Blivion

It turned out, much to Daria's relief, that when Trent asked if he and the band could crash with her, they hadn't exactly meant _with_ her. They were actually planning on sleeping in The Tank, having the foresight (ever so shockingly) to realize that four guys probably wouldn't be all that welcome in a girls' dormitory. They figured that Jane would at least be able to stay in the dorm, and Daria (using her new cell) called ahead to make sure.

Daria and her caravan managed to make it into Boston amid rush hour traffic. Once inside the city limits, Daria took the lead toward Raft University. The college's parking was meager and every Frosh and his mother, father, aunt, uncle, siblings, and ol'-friend-of-the-family seemed to have accompanied him to his first day as a college student. Milling crowds covered the walks and blocked doorways despite the hour and early autumn chill. Searching for a couple of empty slots was futile, so the gang decided to scope out the surrounding territory for a pizza parlor instead.

An hour or so later they headed back to Raft. It was about seven o'clock and most of the families had arrived in the morning so visits were just about over. At least the parking had eased up. Max managed to find a couple spots relatively close together.

Daria found her second-story dorm with little trouble and, by the looks of it, her roommate for the next year had already settled in. The room was just barely spacious enough to cram two beds, two desks, and two dressers into it. The beds were set against the walls in opposite corners with the desks at their feet. The dressers were pushed into the space between the beds. There was a picture window above the dressers and a single window above each bed that could be opened. Daria's bed was on the left since her assigned roommate had staked out the right side of the room. A laptop computer was plugged in on the roommate's desk and a large sea-bag was lying atop the dresser.

Jane, Trent and Jesse had accompanied Daria to her room. It was smack-dab in the middle of the hall. Stairs were at one end, bathrooms at the other. Dorm laundry was down below along with the common room (which sported a big screen T.V.). The boys had politely carried her scant luggage for her while Max and Nick unfurled their sleeping bags in The Tank. Turned out that the old trunk they used as a backseat was also used to store four sleeping bags, a gas can, jumper cables, a first aid kit, a roll of paper towels, a bottle of PineSol, and a rather large bowie knife. Daria didn't ask questions.

Trent placed the box containing Daria's computer tower and monitor on the desk. Jesse put the box of books he was carrying on the free dresser. Jane dropped her own sleeping bag and overnight bag on the desk chair.

"Not bad amiga," Jane said as she took a look around, hands on hips. "Cozy. Do you think you can manage in such close quarters with another life form?"

Daria shrugged and dumped her bags on the left side bed. "I guess it depends on whether she crosses the imaginary line down the middle of the room or not. This side is _mine_."

Jane chuckled, but she was the only one. Usually Trent would join in, cough, and say 'Good one, Daria.' Daria glanced at him only to find him frowning at his toes. She wanted to ask him if everything was all right but the door opened, cutting her off. Her roommate had returned carrying a large box. Everyone turned to her. She was about 5'9 or so, and had medium length, dirty-blonde hair pulled into a loose, somewhat untidy, braid. She wore scuffed, black motorcycle boots, saggy jeans that were ripped and stained in several places, and a red-plaid flannel shirt over a plain black tee. Her eyes were green.

The girl stopped right inside the door, looked around at the gathered crowd in her room, stepped backward into the hall and checked the number on the door. "This is the right room..." she said, walking back in and checking to see if her laptop was where she'd left it. "Which one of you is Morgendorffer, D.?"

"It's Daria."

"Cool name. Uncommon. Greek or Persian. Several meanings, I forget them all. Something about 'good omen' or whatnot," the girl said, shifting the weight of whatever was in the box more comfortably. "I'm Delaney Connors. The Gaelic meaning of 'Delaney' is 'child of dark defiance.' My parents never stood a chance." Delaney looked at Jane. "What's your name?"

"Jane Lane and this is my brother, Trent." Jane jerked a thumb at him absently, looking interested in the newcomer. "What's 'Trent' mean?"

"Hmmm. Trent. English origin. Means 'the traveler' or 'to journey.' Jane. Hebrew for 'God is gracious.' You religious?" Jane shook her head. Trent looked horrified. Delaney smirked and turned to the last stranger. "And who are you?"

"Name's Jesse," he said, briefly distracted from his internal musings.

"'Jesse' is also Hebrew. It means 'a gift' or 'wealth.'" Delaney smiled, oddly shy now. "I have an unhealthy fascination with names. Just ignore me."

"I have a fascination with botched surgeries," Daria monotoned. "Nothing unhealthy about that."

"Of course not," Delaney said, again shifting the box in her arms. "What else is there to discuss at the dinner table?" Jane and Daria exchanged a smirk.

"Do you need help with that?" Trent spoke up, pointing at the box in Delaney's arms. Delaney looked at the box in slight surprise.

"To tell you the truth, I kinda forgot that I was holding it," she said, sheepish. "I was just getting the rest of my stuff outta my truck and..." She blanched suddenly. "I left the... No!" She flung the box in the general direction of her bed, narrowly missing Jesse, and hightailed it out the door. Trent and Jesse followed.

Jane and Daria watched as the flimsy cardboard box hit the bed at an awkward angle and split at the corner. Several books flew out and slid across the bedspread, some falling between the wall and frame. Jane dug them out. "_The Brothers' Karamazov_... _Steppenwolfe_... _Of Human Bondage_... Sounds right up your alley, my literary friend."

Daria walked over, pushing the books over the bed with her finger to read the titles. _Atlas Shrugged_, _Huckleberry Finn_, _Brave New World_, _Lord of the Flies_, _1984 & Animal Farm_... "Well, at least I know that my new roommate can read. Maybe I'll be able to replace you as 'best-friend' sooner than I'd thought."

Laughter sounded from down the hall and carried to their door. Delaney opened the door, Jesse and Trent close behind her, arms empty of boxes. They were laughing. "Hey, guys," Delaney greeted.

"Hey," Jane replied. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing..." Delaney waved it off. "So, where're you guys from? Suburban America?"

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"You don't seem like country people."

"Thank God," Daria monotoned.

Delaney looked at her. "_I'm_ country people."

_Oops_.

"With like, chickens and cows and stuff?" Jesse asked.

"Close. Five chickens, two cows, one hell of an ornery goat, one crazy as hell horse, one very old dog, and countless cats. Plus," she said, pulling open her flannel shirt and pointing to a quivering lump over her breast. "Pouch. My rat. You don't mind rodents, do you, Daria?"

"You have a _rat_ in your _pocket_?"

"Hey, Pouch isn't some typical street rat," Delaney informed them, carefully extracting the rat from her shirt. "He's actually quite finicky. For a rat." She held him out for the others to see. He was completely white with beady little pink eyeballs. "Pouch is a PEW, a pink-eyed white. He's pretty harmless, he'll usually only bite you if your hands smell like food. I let him roam free-range and stuff, but if you feel uncomfortable having a blood-sucking vampire rat skittering around in the dark, under your bed, just let me know. I'll find a cage for him or something." Jane laughed. Pouch plopped down in the middle of Delaney's palm and started diligently cleaning his whiskers.

"Um... Can I hold him?" Trent asked.

Delaney seemed a bit surprised. "Sure," she said, passing Pouch over. "Your hands are clean, right?" Trent nodded and placed his hand, palm up, next to Delaney's. Pouch stopped his cleaning and sniffed, bright eyed and curious. Delaney gently tipped him into Trent's hand. "People usually have misconceptions about rats. I'm surprised no one has screamed or hopped atop the furniture yet."

"_Yet_," Daria said.

"Is he really going to bother you, Daria?"

"He's actually kinda... cute," Jane said, getting a closer look. "Hey, Trent, let me hold him."

"No," Trent said, the hand holding Pouch moving possessively closer to his chest. "I like him. You can hold him later." Jane frowned at him. Pouch tried to climb up his shirt.

"I wanna hold him, too," Jesse said, peering over Trent's shoulder.

"Now, now, children," Delaney teased. "Everyone will get their turn." She turned to Daria. "Do _you_ want to hold him, Daria?" she asked, a hopeful note in her voice. Everyone looked to Daria, brows raised.

"Come on, amiga," Jane urged. "Give the little guy a chance."

Trent held the rat out to her. "He's pretty tame, Daria. Nothing to be scared of."

"I'm not scared... My hands still smell like pizza."

Jane looked skeptical. Trent cocked his brow. "Hmmm..."

Daria sighed to herself and reached for the rat. Trent mimicked Delaney's earlier movements and tipped Pouch into Daria's hand. On instinct, Daria put her hands together to give the rat more room. He wasn't as heavy as she'd thought he'd be. His little rat claws and long whiskers tickled her palm. His nose crinkled up rapidly as he sniffed Daria's fingers, his beady eyes unblinking. _Don't bite me, don't bite me, don't bite me_.

"If you don't like him, I'll put him in a cage whenever he's not in my pocket." Delaney said from beside her. "Just remind me, okay?"

"I don't think having him scuttle around will be a problem," Daria said. "Until he bites my toes off, that is."

Delaney giggled. "Oh, you'll get used to a few less toes. It doesn't hurt as much as you'd think. Pouch is surprisingly gentle with amputations via incisor and you'll be able to wear smaller shoe sizes; very useful."

Trent laughed, coughed, and said, "Good one, Delaney."

Daria felt her stomach drop a notch. What the hell was going on? Why should it bother her that Trent showed appreciation for someone else's joke? So what if he had said the same thing to them that he'd only ever said to her? What does that matter? So what if he had ignored some stupid joke that she had made earlier but had laughed now? What the hell did it matter?

Daria shoved Pouch at Jane. He swayed with the movement and tried to steady himself on her palm by digging in his claws. It didn't hurt. "Here," Daria said. "Take him. I have to make a phone call."

Jane took him, uncertainty in her eyes. "Something wrong, amiga?"

"No," Daria said, a bit too quickly, turning on her heel and heading for the door. "I just promised Quinn that I'd call her once we got here."

"Yeah. Okay," Jane said as Jesse sidled up to her, eyeing Pouch.

At the door, Daria looked back. Jane and Jesse were fondling the rat. Jane placed him on Jesse's shoulder and laughed. Trent and Delaney were deep in conversation. Trent looked more awake and animated than Daria had ever seen him. She turned and left before her thoughts could get away from her.


	4. Episode 4: The First Night

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 4: The First Night

By: Farren O'Blivion

After she left the room Daria decided to follow through with her excuse for leaving and called Quinn from the common room. Their conversation wasn't as mundane as she'd thought it would be. Quinn actually seemed interested in talking with Daria, not at her. She asked if they'd found the school okay, what Daria's first impression of Boston was, whether she thought she would like it there, had she met her roommate yet? What was her name? What was she like? Did Daria like her okay enough to cohabitate?

Daria hesitated, considering whether to omit meeting Delaney Connors or not. She caught herself mid-debate and wondered why she was even hesitating about Delaney in the first place. Was she jealous? Jealous of what? Jealous of how everyone seemed to take to her within the first thirty seconds of meeting her? Jealous of the way Trent seemed to have opened up to Delaney once Daria was on her way out the door?

"Daria? Are you there?" Quinn's voice issued from Daria's palm. Daria quickly returned the cell to her ear.

"Yeah, I'm here, Quinn. What was the question?"

"I asked whether you had met your roommate yet and what her name was."

"Yeah, I met her about fifteen minutes ago. Her name's Delaney Connors."

"Do you like her?"

Again, Daria briefly hesitated. "Yes. I do," Daria said, closing her eyes and against her green thoughts. "She seems like a really likable person."

"That's great, Daria!" Quinn squealed. "Maybe you can expand your social circle a little and make a new friend!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daria demanded, her eyes snapping open.

"What's _what_ supposed to mean?"

"You think there's something wrong with my social circle? What's wrong with Jane? Do you have something against her, Quinn?"

"What are you talking about, Daria? All I said was maybe you could—"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time!" Daria snapped.

"Obviously you didn't!" Quinn snapped back. "There's nothing wrong with making new friends, Daria! Especially with a girl that you'll be living in close quarters with for the next year! I didn't say anything about Jane! What's your freaking problem?"

Daria sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I don't have a problem, Quinn." Quinn huffed, unbelieving. Daria gave the wall a shot with her head. "I'm just tired, that's all. You know... riding in a car all day... getting caught in rush-hour traffic... no parking once we finally got here—"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay..." Quinn said. Silence followed. Daria wondered if she had hung up but then she heard Quinn sigh a long suffering sigh that set her teeth on edge. "So what's this Delaney Connors like?"

A smile tugged at Daria's mouth. "She has a pet rat."

Silence again fell at Quinn's end. "...She has a pet _what_?"

"A pet rat, Quinn. He's pure white and has beady little red rat eyes and pink feet with sharp little claws." Daria smirked, enjoying Quinn's obvious discomfort over the line. Quinn didn't like dirty, "un-cute" animals. She felt a small pang of guilt; Quinn hadn't, after all, really done anything to deserve this torture. Daria could just imagine the horrified, disgusted expression on Quinn's pretty face. She sighed and opened her mouth, intent on apologizing, but Quinn's voice came over the line before she could.

"What's his name?"

Daria's jaw fell and her eyebrows shot up. Had the world gone mad? Quinn, interested in a nasty rat? Daria closed her mouth and swallowed her astonishment. "Delaney calls him 'Pouch.'"

"'Pouch'? What kind of a name is that?"

"I think she calls him that because he rides around in her pockets."

"She keeps him in her _pockets_?" Quinn screeched. She calmed herself. "..._Weird_. Well, he must be pretty tame if she lets him do that. Pouch the pocket rat... That's actually kinda cute now that I think about it. Does he do tricks?"

Daria rolled her eyes. "He's not a dog, Quinn. He's a _rat_."

"I know. But people have all sorts of strange pets now, it's not just cats and dogs anymore. And they take the time out to train, like, parrots and lizards and pigs. Why not a trained rat? Didn't you ever see _The Green Mile_? They had a trained _mouse_ in there. And aren't rats smarter than mice?"

Daria paused, almost shocked speechless. "Quinn... You watched _The Green Mile_?"

Quinn bristled over the line. "You sound surprised, Daria."

Daria decided to avoid that topic and hopefully salvage a somewhat civilized conversation with her sister. "So... Seen any good movies lately?"

* * *

Daria returned to her dorm in slightly higher spirits. The conversation with Quinn had ended on good terms. Quinn seemed to be growing up, showing maturity, letting go of past grudges. Now, if only Daria could do the same. She paused in front of her door and raised her hand to knock. Her knuckles connected with the wood once and she caught herself. What was she doing, knocking on her own door? She pushed it open and walked in, almost treading on Jesse's fingers. He jerked his hand back and rose to his knees, smiling up at her sheepishly.

"Sorry, Daria. Just fetching Pouch's spool," he said, holding up a thread-less wooden spool to prove his statement.

"Where you been, amiga?" Jane asked. She was sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the middle of the room, the rat perched on her knee. "Did you find that spool, Jess? Pouch fetches it just like that mouse in _The Green Mile_, Daria. Wanna see?"

Daria's jaw muscles clenched involuntarily. She looked around the room as Jesse scurried on his hands and knees back to Jane's side. "Where're Trent and Delaney?"

"Hm? Oh, they went out for coffee at some all-night diner Delaney knows. Said they weren't tired."

"I bet," Daria muttered to herself.

"Jane and I volunteered to rat-sit Pouch," Jesse said, scooping said rat from Jane's lap and placing him on the carpet. "Now, fetch the spool, Pouch!"

* * *

"So, you're a struggling musician. And Jesse is the rhythm guitarist for... Mystik Spiral, is it?"

Trent looked at Delaney over the rim of his mug. She was creatively stacking creamers in a more upright replication of The Leaning Tower of Pisa. So far, she'd also successfully recreated Stonehenge (with pats of butter) and The Eiffel Tower (made from numerous stirs). Both were resting on a bed of sugar packets. She suddenly looked up at him and raised her brows. Trent realized that he'd been staring. He nodded affirmation and sipped his coffee. She smiled, encouraging him to embellish. He cleared his throat and complied. "Max plays drums. Nick plays bass."

Delaney's smile turned to a grin. "And that would make you either the lead singer or... the tambourine player in the back."

Trent chuckled. "You're funny, Delaney."

"Well, which one is it?" Delaney teased.

"The tambourine player," Trent replied, straight-faced. Delaney laughed. He smiled. "So what do the names 'Nick' and 'Max' mean?"

"Well, 'Nick' comes from 'Nicholas,' as I'm sure you know, which is from the Grecian word 'nike,' like the shoes. It means 'victory'. 'Nicholas,' and all names stemmed from it, has the meaning 'victory of the people," Delaney recited, absently shredding several used sugar packets as she spoke. "The name 'Nicodemus,' which comes from the Grecian word 'nico,' meaning 'I won,' is also considered as another form of 'Nicholas, despite 'nike' and 'nico' being of different tenses." Tiny granules of sugar sparkled atop the Formica like crystals. "All forms of 'Max' stem from 'Maximus.' Most forms mean 'the greatest,' but 'Maximilian' and just plain 'Max' mean 'little Maximus.'" Delaney's eyes twinkled. "Which I find rather ironic."

Trent filched a packet of sugar from the Eiffel Tower. "You're family owns a farm?" Delaney nodded and began drawing in the spilt sugar. "Here in Massachusetts?"

"Montana."

Trent raised his brows. "You're a long way from home."

"It's not my home anymore."

His brow furrowed at the sullen note in her voice. "Did the bank foreclose on it?"

"Why are you so interested?" Delaney demanded, flicking sugar grains onto the floor.

"...You're an interesting person."

"That sounds like a cheap pick-up line, Trent," she accused. "Can't you do any better?"

"So, honey, your crowded dorm or my drummer's thrashed van?"

Delaney burst out laughing.

* * *

Daria's neck was starting to get sore. She was propped up in the corner of her bed, cross-legged, a book open in her lap. Reading in such a position for more than an hour was getting extremely uncomfortable. For the fifth time in as many minutes, Daria pulled the curtain back on her window and stared out at the dimly lit parking lot. Max and Nick had been asleep since the moment The Tank had stopped moving. Jane and Jesse had finally floated of to dreamland a mere two hours ago, around one o'clock or so. Trent and Delaney were still missing. Daria resumed her reading.

Two minutes later, she snapped her book closed with a frustrated huff and tossed it onto her dresser. She glanced over at Jane and Jesse. Jesse was spreadeagle on his back, arms stretched out wide, fingers curled gently into his palms. Jane, on the other hand, was face-down in the carpet, arms pulled protectively under her body, her hands tightly fisted. _Polar opposite sleepers_, she mused. They'd worn themselves out playing with Delaney's rat. Turned out, he was a spool-fetching genius.

Daria's stomach suddenly dropped. Thinking about it now... she hadn't seen Pouch for quite some time. She leapt off the bed in a near-panic. Where could the little rodent be? She fell to her hands and knees and checked under her bed. _Nope_. She crawled toward her desk. _Not there either_. She turned toward Delaney's side of the room and paused. She looked at Jesse. He was making an odd... _lapping_ sound. Was he snoring? Daria moved closer. A flash of movement by his head caught her eye. She jumped back slightly in surprise. She'd found Pouch. He was nestled comfortably in Jesse's flowing locks, cleaning his whiskers. That explained the sound she'd heard.

Daria sat back on her heels and sighed. Delaney hadn't been exaggerating about Pouch being a rather persnickety rat. He was forever grooming his whiskers.

Daria stood and padded silently back to her window, pulling the curtains aside, her eyes automatically zeroing in on The Tank. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a couple of shadowy figures loitering by a car. She focused on them instead and noticed that the car was her Focus. The taller of the two figures pointed at her car. The other squatted down to get a closer look and Daria realized that they were checking out Jane's decal handiwork. The squatter shrugged and stood, gesturing to another vehicle across the lot. Daria tried to follow the movement and pick out which car the squatter had been indicating, but there was no need. The two figures were making their way over to an old battered pickup truck. The squatter hopped into the truck's bed, opened a toolbox, and extracted a long, cylindrical object. The squatter hopped down and they returned to Daria's car. Light burst from the cylinder as it was trained on Jane's design. The flashlight flicked off and Daria heard laughter. She watched as the two strolled off and stopped near The Tank. They bumped shoulders playfully. The tall one kicked at the asphalt, hands in pockets. The squatter nudged them with their hip and walked off toward the dorms. The other watched for a moment, then turned and clambered into The Tank.

Daria's stomach dropped to an even lower notch. How had she not realized who they were? Who else would point out Jane's artwork in the dark? Daria whipped her covers back and clambered into bed. It was three in the morning and they were _just now_ returning from some... _spontaneous tryst_? She snatched up her book, opened it randomly, and stared blankly at the words. Where had they been? What had they done? Daria wasn't sure if she truly wanted to know.

A moment later, Delaney opened the door to their room. She smiled at Daria and gestured to Jane and Jesse's prone forms. "Pouch tired them out, huh?"

"You're back early," Daria snipped before she could stop herself. Sarcasm oozed from her words.

Delaney seemed to think it was a joke. "What can I say? I'm a night owl," she retorted, rummaging in her dresser for pajamas.

"Hmmm."

"Hey," she said, blue pajama shorts in hand. She tossed them onto her pillow and began collecting her books. "Trent showed me the decal Jane did on your car. From what he says, you two have quite a reputation back at Laaawndale High."

Daria frowned. _She knows about Ms. Li?_ "Hmmm."

Delaney set the ruined box and its cargo on her dresser and turned to Daria. "Something bothering you, Daria? Is it Pouch again?"

Daria shook her head quickly without looking up. She remembered the excuse that she'd used with Quinn. "I'm just tired. New place. New bed. Unpacking... You know..."

Delaney nodded, understanding. "Yeah. Look at this place. I've left such a mess of it. I'll clean it up tomorrow, okay?" Daria shrugged. Delaney smiled and toed off her boots, kicking them under the bed. "You know, I like you, Daria. You're pretty laid-back."

_If you only knew, Miss Night-Owl_.

Delaney continued. "But you still get things done. Me, I'm a complete head case. Flaky, disorganized... I couldn't find my ass with both hands." She stripped off her flannel shirt. "I can see why Trent and Janey like you so much," she said as she changed from her jeans to the shorts, discarding her knee-high black nylon socks as well.

_Janey? Since when has anyone but Trent called her that?_

There was a knock on the door. "I'll get it," Delaney said, padding over on bare feet. She opened the door. "Hey, Trent." Daria looked up. "Come in."

"Hey, Delaney," Trent said, ambling inside. "I just came to collect—Oh. Hey, Daria," he greeted, noticing that she was awake in the corner.

"Hey. Something wrong?"

He stared at her for a moment and she felt a flush creeping into her cheeks. "Plenty of things are wrong," he muttered, looking away and focusing on the two bodies at his feet. "I just came to get Jess." He stooped by his friend's side.

"Okay," Delaney said, hopping into her own bed. "Here, Pouch!" she called, whistling softly as if for a dog. "Come here, boy! Bedtime!" A squeak issued from Jesse's hair. Trent jumped just as Daria had. Daria smirked. Pouch stuck his little nose in the air and sniffed. A moment later, he emerged from his nest and scurried toward Delaney's bed. "There you are! Good, boy. Come on," she said, lowering her hand to the floor. Pouch crawled in without hesitation. Delaney lifted him up and deposited him onto her pillow. "Now, no droppings this time, you hear?" She turned to the others. "Until... noon or so. 'Night, guys."

"'Night," Daria and Trent said in unison. Trent tapped Jesse on the forehead. "C'mon, Jess. Time to go."

Jesse opened a groggy eye. "Whazzappenin?"

Trent hauled Jesse to his feet. "You're supposed to be in The Tank with the rest of us, man."

"Lemmeslee," he mumbled.

"Just because you passed out here doesn't mean you get to crash here, Jess," Trent scolded, dragging him to the door and propping him against it. "Hold on, man. If you fall, I'm dragging you to The Tank by your hair." Trent snatched Jane's sleeping bag from Daria's desk chair and unfurled it. He spread it out as best he could next to his sister and carefully rolled her onto it. Jane slept on. He removed her boots, covered her, and zipped her up.

"Trent," Daria called. He turned to her and she handed him an extra pillow. "Here."

"Thanks," he said, crouching by his sisters head and maneuvering it onto the pillow. He stood and placed Jesse's arm around his shoulders to keep him up. "Night, Daria," he said as he walked out the door, dragging Jesse along.

"Ay mun," Daria heard Jesse slur sleepily. "Err's sumsorra ness imy 'air."

Trent chuckled, coughed, and closed the door behind them.

_Goodnight, Trent._


	5. Episode 5: She's Come Undone

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 5: She's Come Undone

By: Farren O'Blivion

Daria had finally fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion at 4:17 a.m. She awoke a few short minutes after nine o'clock. She reached out for her glasses without opening her eyes, gasping in pain when her knuckles cracked against the wall. She opened her eyes and sat up, cradling her left hand to her chest. The knuckles were bruised. _Just a painful reminder that I'm not in Kansas anymore_, Daria thought. _I'll have to get used to getting up on the wrong side of the bed, now_. She plucked her glasses from the dresser and put them on. Delaney's tousled bed came into focus. She was gone.

Daria frowned and glanced at her alarm clock that she'd unpacked the evening before. Where in hell could she be? Delaney had gone to bed barely an hour before Daria did. Daria stood and carefully stepped over a still-sleeping Jane to reach Delaney's bed. She felt the sheets. They were cold. That meant that she'd been gone for at least an hour. Had she and Trent rendezvoused? No, that suspicion was just silly. Trent could never function on scant hours of sleep. Then again... She shook her head to clear it. What was wrong with her, obsessing over Trent's whereabouts like some pathetic little schoolgirl with a crush? That was over and done with. She was past that phase of her life. Trent had no effect on her anymore.

So why was his friendliness toward Delaney bothering her so much?

She sighed and tried to run a hand through her tangled mass of hair. Inevitably, her fingers got snagged in a particularly thick knot and she spent the next few minutes picking it out. She needed a long, scalding shower. _Maybe it'll wash away my asinine obsessions_, she thought as she grabbed her toiletries bag from her top drawer and threw an over-sized towel over her shoulder. She tiptoed past Jane toward the door but paused with her hand on the knob, debating whether to wake her up or let her sleep. Jane had gotten the recommended eight hours while Daria was running on five. Daria turned back with a vindictive smile curling her mouth. She set her bag on the carpet by the door. Tiptoeing back over to her sleeping friend, she knelt down and...

"_Eep!" _Daria yelped as her door crashed open. She leapt to her feet, tugging at the hem of her faded _Mark Twain_ nightshirt. Jane sat up, blearily rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Who screamed?"

"Hey, guys!" Delaney chirped, rushing into the room. "Sorry I woke you. Anyone want coffee?" she asked, tossing an empty takeout cup into the trash.

"I don't see any coffee," Jane grumbled, not fully awake and glaring daggers.

Delaney smiled at her, amused. "The rest is down in my truck."

"Are they decent or what?" a somewhat familiar male voice called impatiently from the hall.

"Are you decent, ladies?" Delaney repeated.

"I'm not sure I'd classify myself as a decent lady, per se, but—" Jane began, extracting herself from the sleeping bag, but Daria cut her off.

"Who wants to know?" she called.

She heard some snickering and whispers. "Cut it out, boys," Delaney said poking her head out the door. "They're decent. I'll go and get the coffee." She stepped into the hall.

"I'll get it, don't worry," a different, though still familiar, male voice offered. "And while I'm down there, I'll wake the others up so they can help us with this monster."

"Just Jesse," Delaney ordered. "Trent was up pretty late. Or early. Whatever."

Daria's jaw tightened.

Jane joined Delaney in the hall. "Hey guys. What's this?"

"Morning, Jane," the male voices chorused.

Daria scuttled up to the door, stooping to snatch up her bag from the floor. She poked her head out. Nick and Max were standing by a large bookcase that hadn't been there the day before. Nick spotted her over Jane's shoulder. "Hey, Daria. Sleep well?"

The others turned to her. She surreptitiously wrapped the overlarge towel around her waist before she stepped out from behind the door. Max grinned at her. "Quite a case of bed-head, there, Daria," he teased. "That's why I shave."

Daria was not in the mood for friendly banter. "And here I thought you were just another victim of premature male balding."

Max frowned as Nick pretended to cough to cover his laugh. "Well, that towel makes you look fat!" Max snapped.

Daria raised a condescending brow. "Wrong Morgendorffer, Max. Besides, curves are _in._"

Jane snorted. "What time is it?" she asked no one in particular. She yawned and stretched.

"About a quarter after nine," Daria said, glancing over her shoulder to check the clock.

Jane gawked at her. "In the morning?" She turned to the boys. "What are you two doing up?"

"Damn, Jane," Nick said. "We crashed at, what? _Seven_ last night? It's been over twelve hours."

"That's never mattered before," Jane argued, arms crossed, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Yeah, well," Nick said, running a hand through his chestnut hair. "Things change."

"What kind of things?" she demanded.

Max jumped in. "Have _you_ ever shared a van with three rather large guys? It's not as glamorous as it sounds!"

"I've been crammed in The Tank with all _four_ of you 'rather large guys' before!"

"Not overnight, you haven't!" Max shot at her.

Jane opened her mouth to argue but Nick cut her off. "You can't deny that, Jane. Trent _never_ let you tag along on overnight gigs."

"No, but—"

"And even with five people riding in a van," he continued, ignoring Jane's interruption. "everyone still has some space. But four guys crammed in the back trying to sleep with a drum kit and amps..." Nick shook his head. "That's a whole other story."

"All right," Jane conceded. "But that still doesn't explain your strange behavior over this summer."

Max and Nick exchanged nervous glances. "What strange behavior?" they queried in unison.

Jane smirked and pointed over their shoulders. "Like that." The boys turned. Jesse had just topped the stairs, a drink carrier held in each hand. A passing Freshman girl gave him an appreciative smile but he didn't seem to notice.

"Hey guys," he greeted quietly, handing the carriers over to his band-mates. "Delaney said that these were for us."

Everyone suddenly turned to look for Delaney. "She must have slipped away while we were talking," Jane said as she, Nick and Max all took a coffee from one of the trays.

"Does it matter?" Daria grumbled as she marched off toward the bathrooms. No one noticed.

"Did she tell you what she wanted done with this thing?" Nick asked, jerking his head toward the bookcase.

Jesse wasn't listening. "Trent was laughing in his sleep again," he said, running a hand over his face and sighing. "You know how creepy that is." Nick, Max, and Jane all shuddered involuntarily.

"Yeah, the laughing's creepy but have you ever heard him _talk_ in his sleep?" Jane asked. Nick and Max shook their heads but Jesse nodded as he reached for one of the remaining coffees.

"He hasn't done that in awhile but I still remember when he did. It scared the living hell out of me, the stuff he would say," he said, sipping his coffee. He swallowed and looked uncertainly at the cup. "What is this?"

"It's an Irish Crème latte, Jesse," Delaney said from behind them, materializing out of nowhere. She smiled at them impishly. "It's one of the few things I indulge myself with."

"Oh, there you are," Nick said, slightly startled at her sudden appearance. "Where do you want this?"

"Anywhere it'll fit, I suppose," Delaney shrugged then snickered. "Now you know what kind of girl I am." She plucked one of the remaining two lattes from a carrier. "This one is Trent's. The last is Daria's. Put it in a safe place for her, okay? I'll be right back."

Jane glanced around quickly. Sure enough, Daria was gone. Jane smirked as she watched Delaney skip down the stairs. _Looks like Trent's found himself a girlfriend... I wonder if she'll keep him? Monique wouldn't..._

As Nick and Max struggled to lift the bookcase, Jesse bent to collect the discarded carriers and empty cups. He shuffled into the dorm room and threw them into a trashcan before setting Daria's untouched latte on her desk. He turned to Jane. "If you're wondering where Daria is, she went to the bathroom down the hall. She didn't look happy. I think she's feeling threatened by Delaney. What do you think? Oh. And you might need to bring her some clothes. I didn't see her carrying any."

Jane stared at him in amazement as he drained the last of his own coffee, wiped his mouth with the back of a hand, and tossed the cup in with the others.

"Hey, Jess," Nick puffed from the doorway. "Think you can help us with this thing?"

"It's not like _you_... carried it up those... damn stairs..." Max wheezed. "_We_ did all the... hard stuff!"

"Cool."

* * *

_First Trent and now she's got Nick and Max wrapped around her little finger_, Daria thought furiously as she towel-dried her hair. _If Jesse hadn't been so preoccupied with that infernal __**rat**__, she'd've had him under her thumb last night! Of course, he's so enamored of Pouch_—

She cut her thoughts off as she heard the door open. "Daria? You in here?" Jane called from the doorway. Daria stayed silent, debating whether or not to answer but knowing that if she didn't, Jane wold look for her anyway. She quickly wrapped the towel around her body, as she'd forgotten to grab a change of clothes, before splaying her hands on either side of the sink and glaring at herself in the mirror. Jane came around the corner carrying a small tote bag. Their eyes clashed in the mirror.

"Why didn't you answer?"

Daria shrugged. "You called? I had a towel over my head." The lie came easily to her lips.

Jane frowned but let it go. She'd come with a different purpose in mind. Might as well get down to it. "Are you threatened by Delaney?"

Daria's jaw dropped for a fraction of a second before she clenched it tight, grinding her teeth and stuffing most of her scattered hygienics back into the toiletries bag. "What's that supposed to mean?" she snarled.

Jane crossed her arms, still holding the tote, and leant against a wall. "You weren't too friendly toward Delaney when we met her."

"I'm never friendly toward _anybody_. What's your point?"

"And you didn't seem too happy when she and Trent went out for coffee," Jane went on as if Daria had said nothing. "Or when she brought us coffee this morning... I thought you were over Trent, Daria."

Daria finally turned around, taking a similar arms-crossed pose and leaning against the sink. She spoke in a calm, cool voice. "I _am_ over Trent. There's no future between us, except as friends."

"Then what—"

Daria hesitated a split second before plunging on with it. "This sticky situation seems awfully familiar to me, now that you mention it," she interrupted. "I won't mention any names, but do you remember a certain boyfriend of yours that I was up in arms over?" Jane smirked. Daria continued. "I was none too friendly towards this person, at first—"

"At first."

"—but then he and I had a little chat and I realized that it wasn't _him_ that I was angry at," Daria said, pointedly ignoring Jane's snide comment. "It was you."

Jane frowned, confused. "Me? What did _I_ do?"

"You ran off with him and abandoned me to my own devices."

"Oh," Jane said, the lights clicking on in her head. "So you thought that I was... becoming less of your friend... because I made another one?" Daria nodded. "So... you're cold toward Delaney because you think she's... 'stealing' Trent away?"

Daria uncrossed her arms and stared at her hands. _It's out, at least_, she thought. Jane never knew the reason behind Daria's sudden change of heart toward Tom; they'd never discussed it, preferring to just sweep the whole mess under the rug and move on with their friendship. But... was this particular vulnerability really the method behind the madness regarding Delaney? Or was Daria just throwing some logical conclusion out there so the subject could be dropped?

"Daria?" Jane prodded. "Is that the reason?"

Daria sighed and lowered her hands. She nodded affirmation. "I don't have that many friends, Jane," she said. "It's just you and Trent... But mostly just you. And I'm very possessive."

Jane smirked. "You have more friends than just me and Trent. There's Jesse, Jodie and Mack."

"Be serious, Jane."

"I am! I seriously believe that, if you were in trouble, those three would have your back. They might not know all your secrets, but they like you just the same. After all... Trent doesn't know any of your secrets either, but he's still pretty damn protective of you."

"Thinks of me as a sister, does he?" Daria's tone was pure sarcasm.

"No," Jane corrected. "He thinks of you as 'Daria.' I'm the only sister that he can stand for more than a day. Trust me, you're better off being 'Daria' to him."

"I guess that's a step up from being 'the coolest high schooler' he knows."

Jane smirked. "He hasn't called you that since we graduated."

"Wow," Daria deadpanned. "I'm really moving up in the world." She stuffed her shampoo and toothbrush back into the toiletries bag. She sighed and hung her head. "Jane? I need to ask you a favor."

"Need some clothes, amiga?" Jane said, her voice tinged with laughter. The tote bag landed beside the sink. "Hope you don't mind," she said sarcastically. "But I took the liberty of pawing through your drawers. Your usual outfit is in there, minus the jacket... and the boots."

Daria unzipped the tote and pulled out a black skirt and orange shirt. "Thanks, Jane."

"Thank Jesse. He's the one who saw where you went and that you didn't have any clothes with you."

"Jesse noticed something? That's unusual," Daria stated, ducking into an empty stall to change.

"Tell me about it," Jane said, her frown returning. "You know, I barely saw the guys this summer except at Spiral gigs. Trent was rarely home and when he was, he stayed locked in the basement. Nick's hair is his natural color, too. I _think_. I dunno, I've never seen his natural color; since I've known him, it's always been dyed. Jesse's more talkative and less... dense. He knows what's going on, now. And Max is... well, Max is about the same, actually."

"What do you think's going on?" Daria asked, emerging from the stall.

Jane shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I think Trent is the leader."

"You going to ask him?"

"No. My brother is a master of evasive maneuvers."

Daria doubted this. Trent had once called her to ask for help in choosing a birthday gift for Jane. The way he'd 'evaded' suspicion was to immediately stop talking whenever Jane entered the room. Needless to say, his maneuvers backfired.

"I know what you're thinking, amiga. Disregard the birthday fiasco. _You_ were the one that let it slip, after all."

Daria stepped out of the stall and shrugged.

"I'll ask Jesse. He never lies." Jane smirked. "At least, not to me, he doesn't."

* * *

"So what do you guys think of Delaney?" Jane asked the still-assembled band mates as soon as she and Daria returned to the room. "You meet Pouch, yet? Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah, Delaney's definitely cool," Nick agreed, slouching in Daria's desk chair.

"She meant the rat, Nick," Daria informed him.

"Oh. He scared Max so Delaney kept him in her pocket."

"I was not scared!" Max whined from his spot on her bed. Nick rolled his eyes.

"Delaney said that you could use it for your books if you wanted," Nick said to Daria, pointing at the bookcase they had crammed by Delaney's desk. "Just don't put any on the bottom two shelves. Pouch will get them."

"There's a coffee for you on your desk," Jesse informed her from the floor. "You can heat it up in the microwave Delaney brought up. She recommended one-and-a-half to two minutes."

"There's a microwave?"

"Yeah, she got it this morning," Max grumbled, pointing blindly. "Second to last shelf. Got it at the same place as the bookcase. Talked the guy down on the case and got the microwave free. Brand new."

"Superior haggling skills?" Jane suggested when Daria glanced her way.

"Breast size, Jane, where you been?" Delaney answered, again appearing out of nowhere. Trent was behind her. He laughed, coughed, and said, "Good one, Delaney."

Daria's hands curled into fists. She forced them to relax, repeating to herself: _I'm over him, I have been, I still am. I'm over him, I have been, I still am. I'm over him, I have been, I still am_.

"Trent!" Jane exclaimed. "What are you doing up? It's barely past ten!"

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'm hungry. Delaney and I wanted to know if you guys wanted to come with us for food."

"What kind of food?" Jesse asked, standing.

"Where you going?" Nick jumped up from his chair.

"You paying?" Max queried, springing from the bed. Nick elbowed him in the ribs. "Nevermind. I've got cash," he gasped, clutching his side.

"Are _we_ invited?" Jane asked, motioning at herself and Daria.

Delaney held out her hand, palm up. "Five bucks each. Tag-along fee," she quipped, then dropped her hand and rolled her eyes. Jane smirked.

Daria waved a dismissive hand and backed away toward her desk. "No, no," she said. "I have boxes to unpack and parents to call. You guys have fun."

"Daria!" Jane proclaimed. "You have to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Come on, Daria," Delaney chimed in. "Those boxes can wait."

"I'd really rather unpack," Daria insisted, barely masking the anger in her voice. Jesse reached out and touched her elbow. She looked at him, surprised. His eyes were melancholic pools of molten gold.

"Would you like us to bring anything back for you?"

Daria bit back her panic. Did Jesse know about her tapering feelings for Trent? Jane _had_ said that Jesse seemed less 'dense,' more observing. Would he _tell_ Trent? Daria didn't let her thoughts manifest themselves on her face. She kept her voice tightly controlled and even smiled her Mona-Lisa smile. "Thanks, Jesse. That would be great."

He smiled back at her. "What would you like?"

"A slice or two of pizza if you could manage it."

"No problem, amiga," Jane said. "If you're sure...?" Daria nodded once. Jane shrugged and walked out the door, Max, Nick and Jesse following. Trent remained with Delaney who stepped toward Daria and lowered her voice.

"If anything's bothering you, Daria, be careful not to let it fester," she said, the sincerity clear in her voice. Her eyes never left Daria's. "If it's me, I'd like to know." Daria nodded silently, once, a signal that she understood. Delaney smiled and left. Trent met Daria's eyes for a split second before following the other girl out the door.

Daria sighed, glancing around her new home. Her eyes landed on the latte Delaney had bought for her. She picked it up and shuffled toward the bookcase. Sure enough, there was a brand new microwave on the second to last shelf. Daria popped it open and pressed the 1 and the 'Add 30 sec.' buttons. As it heated, she walked to her window and watched as everyone piled into The Tank. Jesse glanced over his shoulder and spotted her. He waved. She waved back. Trent turned to see what Jesse was waving at, shielding his eyes from the sun. Daria dropped her hand and stepped away from the window before he could spot her. She saw him shrug, drop his own hand, and join the others in The Tank. Delaney was driving. The microwave beeped.


	6. Episode 6: The Last Days

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 6: The Last Days

By: Farren O'Blivion

There wasn't much to unpack. Daria had already taken care of her suitcases the night before. She did take Delaney up on the offer to use the bookcase. It was tall, stretching floor to ceiling, and had six widely spaced shelves. The bottom shelf was empty, the second occupied by Delaney's new microwave. The top two shelves were difficult for Daria to reach so she decided to claim the shelf above the microwave as her own and began cramming her books into it. That took about half an hour, after which she hooked up her computer and booted up.

She glanced at Delaney's laptop enviously then back at her own and got into E-mail. She tapped out a quick _Hi, how are you?_ to her friend, Link, back in Lawndale. She'd met him the summer between her junior and senior year when she'd been a counselor at her former teacher's _OK To Cry Corral_. He was about thirteen now and still just as unhappy with his life as he'd been at twelve. Link was angry that his mother had 'thrown his jerk-father out just so she could marry an even bigger one.' They'd corresponded via E-mail for the past year but Daria was at a loss for what else she could do for the boy. She'd been able to connect with him over their mutual 'dislike' of their families and the general public, but Daria suspected that Link came from an abusive home. She never broached the subject, afraid that it would set the boy off and cause him to break ties with her.

After the E-mail to Link, Daria turned her computer off with a deep sigh. She called her parents to give them a quick update. They seemed happy to hear from her. Jake asked about her dorm room and if she'd been in any accidents in her Focus. Helen was more interested in her daughter's roommate. She asked many of the same questions that Quinn had, echoing that it wouldn't hurt for Daria to make a new friend. After they said their goodbyes and hung up, Daria laid down on her bed with her pillow over her face. She hooked her arms over it and pressed down but instead of screaming, all she did was sigh a long, tired sigh. The warmth of her breath soaked into the pillow and heated her face. She wanted to sleep, to curl up in her bed and forget this day had ever happened. But she'd slurped down that latte Delaney had given her with gusto. Sleep was impossible now.

Daria sighed again and sat up. She glanced at the pile of books and assorted bric-a-brac strewn across Delaney's desk next to the laptop. That E-mail to Link hadn't been too informative or interesting; she hadn't told him that she was in Boston now. _I should send him another message. We haven't really kept up with each other lately... Does he even want to?... Maybe I shouldn't... No. If he doesn't reply, he doesn't reply. That'll be that..._

Daria restarted her computer and got back into E-mail:

**Hey Link, how goes it on the home-front?**

**Haven't heard from you in awhile... Did your step-dad**

An Instant Message suddenly popped up in front of her E-mail. The screen-name was **Linkage13** which Daria thought was a bit too close to the truth. She worried that someone might just figure him out.

**Got your message. Are you busy?**

Daria felt a smile come to her lips. **Not at all. What's up?**

**Nothing much. I'm **_**still**_** in Lawndale after all. I suppose you're in Boston by now?**

**Yeah, newly arrived yesterday. Classes start in a week. How's school going for you?**

**I hate it. I want to leave this place.**

Daria frowned. He sounded even more unhappy than he usually did. **It won't last forever. It'll be over before you know it.**

**Liar.**

Daria's smile came back full force. **Okay. You got me.**

**How big is your dorm? Is it roomy?**

**Roomy enough, I suppose. We did have quite a slumber party last night. My friends crashed on the floor. Speaking of which, I'd still like you to meet Jane sometime.**

**Me, too. But it's been a year and nothing ever works out. The Jerk doesn't think I should 'consort with the likes of yada yada yada.' I swear he watches my every move. I can't use my own computer because he has access to it. I use one at the library now. It's the only way I can check my mail without him looking over my shoulder. He's a complete control freak.**

Daria blinked in shock. Link had never really given her _that_ much information on his step-father before. She knew he thought of him, and referred to him, as 'The Jerk' but to an adolescent boy anyone and everyone who had any authority over them was an automatic enemy. The probability of Link exaggerating his step-father's controlling attitude didn't escape Daria, but she ruled it out. Link was angry, but far from typical. **Have you told your mother that his actions bother you?**

**She doesn't listen to me. She never listens. I hate them both. I hate living here.**

Daria wondered if she were overstepping any unspoken boundaries with this next statement. **What about living with your father?**

Link's response was instant. **He doesn't want me.**

**Why would you say that?**

**Because it's true. My parents divorced without having a custody battle. He didn't want me.**

Daria paused, wondering what she could possibly say to that. She didn't come up with an answer, so she told him that. **I don't know what to say.**

**There's nothing **_**to **_**say. It's over and done with.**

**There's no chance for a visit, is there?**

**Not unless I run away.**

Daria's fingers stilled over the keys.

**Aren't you going to try to talk me out of it?**

**You should know me better than that, Link.**

**Yeah. It doesn't matter though. I can't run away. I have nowhere to go.**

Daria bit her lip, debating on whether to type out her immediate response or not. He sounded so forlorn, so beaten. Life at home must be circling the drain for him. That settled it for her. **There are always places to go.**

**Yeah? Like where? A tree in the backyard? Under a bridge? The bus stop?**

**Link, if you ever need a place to go, to get away from it all, I know for a fact that you'd be welcome at Casa Lane.**

He took a long time in answering, but at least he hadn't gone immediately off-line at her comment. Of course, he could just be closing down the persistent barrage of pop-ups. When he did finally answer, Daria sighed audibly with relief.

**That's your friend, Jane, right?**

**Yeah. Whenever I got sick of my house, I'd go to hers. Which was often.**

**But isn't Jane staying in Boston, too?**

**She'll be coming to stay next semester.**

**So it's a temporary escape.**

**No. Jane's brother still lives there.**

**The slacker musician? Trevor, right?**

**Trent.**

**Right. Did his band break up yet?**

**Not yet.**

**Takes too much effort, huh?**

She laughed aloud. **You're in rare form today, Link. Vicious.**

**After a year of 'consorting with the likes of you' I've picked up a few things.**

**I see, young Dung-Beetle.**

**Funny. So... where is this Casa Lane?**

Daria smiled.** 111 Howard Drive.**

**The house with the funky sculpture out front?**

**A Jane Lane Original.

* * *

**

The gang returned about three o'clock. Jane came in first bearing a large pizza box with Daria's name written all over it. Literally; it was spelled out in dried marinara sauce. "Hola, amiga!" Jane greeted cheerfully as she tramped inside, handing the pizza box over to Daria. She looked around the room. "All done unpacking?"

Daria's mouth was full of pizza so she just nodded. Delaney arrived with a small appliance box in each hand. Daria saw that they were a coffee maker and a toaster. Daria raised a brow. "You don't exactly travel light, do you?" she asked after she'd swallowed.

Delaney grinned and set the boxes on her desk. "Actually, I travel very light. All I brought from home was a bag of clothes, my giant box-o-books, and Pouch. Everything else is new."

Daria blinked in surprise. Where was she getting her money? "You don't exactly spend light, do you?"

Delaney shrugged. "I have this sneaking suspicion that I suffer from IBS." She shook her head sadly. "Very tragic."

"IBS?" Jane asked curiously.

"Impulse Buyers' Syndrome."

Jane chuckled.

"Did the guys crash?" Daria asked, her tone indifferent.

"No, they're coming," Jane said, with a meaningful glance in Delaney's direction. There was a hint of a laugh in her voice before her tone turned casual. "They wanted to check out some local clubs tonight; scout for gigs. Wanna come?"

Daria felt her stomach knot. She was still uncomfortable in Delaney's company, and her discomfort had a tendency to get worse when Delaney and Trent were together. Daria hadn't lied when she told Quinn that, on first impressions, she liked Delaney and thought of her as a very likable person. She also conceded to Quinn's point that it would be better for her to be friends with her assigned roommate rather than the alternative. She'd just have to get over her feelings of jealousy and insecurity. Like Jane said, just because Trent had made a new friend, didn't mean he was going to forget Daria. _If he even remembers me in the first place_, she mused.

Her thoughts were cut off as Max wandered into the room carrying a camping stove with four burners, Jesse trailing behind him with a miniature refrigerator box in his arms. A moment later, Nick and Trent appeared hefting a miniature freezer between them. Daria's eyebrow's had vanished into her hairline. Jane smirked again.

"Aren't they great," Delaney asked rhetorically, gesturing at the band-mates. "Thanks for helping, guys."

"No problem, Del," Trent assured.

Daria's face fell into a mask of nothingness and froze._ Del?_

"Yeah," Nick said congenially. "Need anything else moved?"

"Not at the moment. But I'll keep you big, burly, muscular, dream-boat men in mind if I ever do," she jested, placing a hand over her heart (and heaving breast) and panting heavily.

The gang laughed, Daria and Jane included. But Trent (Daria noticed) was a million miles away, lost in his thoughts.

* * *

"Remind me again," Daria drawled scathingly. "just how you managed to finagle me into agreeing to this."

"Simple," Jane said, ignoring her friend's dangerous tone. "I mentioned Trent's name and you came arunnin.'" She glanced at her friend's face before quickly amending her remark. "Kidding, Daria. I'm kidding."

The girls stood shoulder-to-shoulder against a back wall of a grungy, dimly lit underground pub. Each held a drink in their hand. Daria glanced around, taking in her surroundings dispassionately. Her eyes swiveled towards a young man who was retching violently near the stage, almost (but not quite) to the bathrooms.

"Fantastic atmosphere, no? For being randomly picked out of a phone book," Jane said, briefly glancing at the vomiting man before fixing her gaze on an intimately chatting couple near the bar. "Delaney and Max sure look cozy, don't they?"

Daria agreed. She couldn't see either of their faces, but they were standing awfully close together and Delaney's arm was across Max's back. Daria didn't understand it; her instincts about people were rarely, if ever, inaccurate. Had she been wrong about Delaney? She had seemed so likable, but now that Daria had seen her in action... _First Trent, now Max. Is she just getting her jollies off with stringing them along?_ Daria asked herself, studying the two with a skeptical eye. _Everyone seems so smitten with her. Could we all have been wrong about her? Is she really just a tease underneath all that... likableness?_

"I don't get it, Daria." Jane's voice pulled her away from her musings. "I was so sure that she and Trent..." she trailed off.

Daria glanced at her, knowing that the note of uncertainty in her voice had nothing to do with thoughts of Daria pining over Trent. Daria was grateful. "I know. So did I."

"Do you think that she might be attracted to _both_ of them?" Jane asked, turning her attention to her friend.

Daria considered. "It's possible, but not likely that she's attracted to all three of them," she said, pointing. Delaney and Max were no longer talking. They saw him making his way towards the door, pushing roughly through the crowd. Nick was by Delaney's side, handing over a drink, his eyes fixed on Max's retreating back.

Jane let out a low whistle, her brows raised, cobalt eyes trailing Max. "My, _he_ doesn't look happy."

Daria was watching the others. She saw Nick ask or say something to Delaney who made a flippant gesture in Max's general direction and shook her head. Nick said something else to which she shrugged and shook her head again. She took a sip of whatever drink he had brought her. Nick threw one last glance towards the door before touching Delaney's elbow and engaging her in an animated conversation.

_Does she have anything __**but**__ animated conversations with people? _Daria thought sourly before realizing with a jolt that Trent was standing right next to her. His eyes were fixed, unblinking, on the couple at the bar. His face was blank and impassive. Daria began to feel nervous, for what reason, she couldn't define.

Trent must have sensed her eyes on him because suddenly he turned his hollow gaze on her. She automatically matched his expression (or rather, his non-expression) and stared silently back at him, all the while squelching an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Yo," Jane said, finally noticing that she and Daria weren't alone anymore. "Find any gigs yet?"

"We have an audition tomorrow at noon," Trent rumbled in his characteristic low-key, scratchy voice. His gaze remained locked with Daria's as he spoke, though it was hard to tell since the place was so poorly lit. Daria just _knew_. She felt her palms begin to sweat. She wanted to wipe them dry on her skirt but, with a drink in hand, it seemed a difficult task.

Jane, oblivious to the unnerving mood of her brother, smiled in approval. "Noon, eh? Think you can make it at such an early hour?"

"We'll make it."

Jane finally seemed to notice something off in her brother's tone. She frowned and opened her mouth when suddenly the music cut off and Jesse's yell reverberated throughout the crowded room. "Someone call nine-one-one! _Hurry!"_

Daria reacted without thinking. She dropped her drink and started toward Jesse, who stood at the mouth of the short hall that led to the bathrooms and stage entrance (he was holding a power cord in a tight fist), fumbling slightly while trying to get her cellphone out of her jacket pocket. She dialed quickly as she reached him and barely had time to ask him what had happened before the line was picked up.

"Central metro nine-one-one. What is the address of the emergency?"

"What the hell is this address!?!" Daria demanded of a nearby young man, the same that had been retching just moments earlier. He looked wild-eyed and totally confused. He shook his head helplessly.

"One-three-zero-five Burke Avenue," Trent recited calmly from behind her. Daria repeated it to the dispatcher.

"What is the nature of this emergency?"

"Jesse, what happened?"

"There's a girl in the bathroom, she's passed out and I can't tell if she's breathing!" He was speaking very fast, his voice agitated and shaky. "Th--there's a needle still in her arm."

"Paramedics are on their way," the dispatcher told her, having heard Jesse's report for himself. "Would you like me to stay on the line, miss?"

"No, no thank you," Daria said, taking comfort from Jane's hand on her shoulder as Trent brushed past her and into the bathroom, Jesse at his heels. "As long as paramedics are coming..."

"They are, miss," the dispatcher assured.

"Thank you." They disconnected.

"Shit," Daria heard Nick whisper from behind her. She looked over her shoulder at him. He ran his hands over his face and hung his head. Jane's face was ashen and drawn. Her hand tightened on Daria's shoulder. Delaney stood silently, staring at the peeled linoleum at the base of the stage; it was spattered with vomit. Daria turned to the crowd, now still and silent.

"Does anyone know the girl in there?" she called, pointing at the door. Nobody answered. She tried again. "The hospital will need to know who she is. Does anybody know?" She pointed at the wild-eyed youth. "You?" He shook his head fervently

Sirens blared in the distance. Nick's head snapped up. "Thank God," he mumbled before raising his voice and addressing the crowd. "Clear a path! They'll need to get through quickly!" Nick started towards the door, shooing people out of his way. "Move it!" he shouted.

Jesse stumbled out of the bathroom. He bent at the waist, hands on his knees, taking deep, ragged breaths. Jane was instantly at his side. He looked up at her, his eyes wide and fearful. Daria's heart sank.

It was too late.


	7. Episode 7: Puritan City

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 7: Puritan City

By: Farren O'Blivion

For some reason, when the paramedics wheeled the girl out of the club, Trent went with them. His long-fingered hand was gripping hers and his eyes were locked on the girl's face which, thankfully, wasn't covered by black plastic or a white sheet. _Yet_, Daria thought as she, Jane and the rest of the gang followed uncertainly behind.

Max was standing to the side of the door, a large police officer barring his way and peering anxiously into the gloom. His face (briefly illuminated by the abundance of flashing red lights) relaxed when he saw them emerge. "Guys! What happened? I thought--" His voice broke off when he realized that even though all of his friends were safe, somebody else's was not. The girl was small, with a mass of bottle-blonde tangles. Her face was devoid of all color or life. Max's eyes clouded over with anxiousness once again. "Is she gonna be okay?" he mewled, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Are you all with her?" a paramedic asked them, helping to lift the gurney into the ambulance. "I'm sorry but only one of you can ride with. The rest will have to take a separate vehicle."

"I'm coming," Trent answered immediately, hopping into the back alongside the inert girl. The ambulance doors slammed shut, the siren shrieking to life once again. The rest of the gang glanced around at each other doubtfully before rushing over to The Tank.

* * *

The interior of the hospital was brightly lit and smelled of disinfectant and sterilization that was still hard put to cleanse the underlying scent of death. The unease of the gang made the air thick in the waiting room. Trent was off to the side being questioned by a large cop in a trench coat. Daria and Jane sat on a bench under a scenic painting of rolling hills in the countryside. _If only there were a herd of beautiful, wild ponies running free... _Jesse was across from them slumped dejectedly in a chair beside Delaney. She was whispering to him, one of her hands covering his on the armrest. Max and Nick had gone outside for a cigarette.

Daria and Jane could barely hear the discussion between Trent and the cop, but they listened all the same.

"I'm Detective McGregor," the cop said, flipping open a small notepad and poising his pen for action. "Can you state your name, please?"

"Trent Lane." McGregor jotted that down.

"What is your relation with the girl?"

"None," Trent muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "It was the first time any of us had seen her. First time in Boston... Just arrived yesterday."

"Yesterday, huh? And your purpose for being in town?"

"Da... Scouting gigs." McGregor jotted that down.

"What kind of gigs?"

"For my band."

"Who found the girl? Was it you?"

"No. It was my friend, Jesse." McGregor jotted that down.

"Can you point her out for me?" Trent pointed at Jesse, who was obviously not a 'her.' The cop turned back to Trent, his brow furrowed in suspicion. "But a female called nine-one-one...?"

"That was Daria. She's the only one with a phone." McGregor jotted that down.

"Why did you accompany the girl to the hospital?"

"I dunno..." Trent shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "She... she opened her eyes once and... she looked really scared..." His eyes seemed to glaze over as he spoke but, as his voice trailed off, his thoughts suddenly snapped back to reality, eyes refocused. "I guess I just didn't want her to be alone."

McGregor was silent for a moment. "Did you tell the medics that she'd woken briefly?" Trent nodded and finger-combed his hair again. McGregor continued to stare at him; Trent fixed his eyes on a spot above the cop's shoulder. Finally McGregor snapped his notepad closed and stuffed it into his pocket. "Wait right here, please." He stalked off down the hall.

Trent watched him stop at the nurses' station and ask for a phone. He watched as McGregor extracted the little notepad from his pocket, flipped it open and began scribbling down the rest of their discussion. He knew, instinctively, that the cop was also making notes of his body language. Before McGregor could look up and find him watching, Trent turned away.

* * *

Daria felt Jane nudge her gently with her elbow. "What are you thinking, amiga?"

"I'm thinking that Detective McGregor suspects Trent of some dirty dealings."

Jane's brow furrowed. "How do you mean?"

Daria sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I mean... nowhere is safe anymore. Even Lawndale had its share of dealers and, chances are, those dealers' market bases were the same clubs we hung out in. If McGregor does a background check on Trent and the guys, he's going to see an awfully thin connection, but a connection all the same."

"He's gonna peg _Trent _as a_ dealer_?" Jane said incredulously.

Daria shrugged. "Probably not, but he might peg Trent as a user. A user that shares." She sighed and stood. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," Jane murmured, not entirely paying attention.

Daria stalked out the waiting room doors and down to the nurse's station. "Excuse me, nurse?" Daria called. A young woman in purple scrubs looked up from a filing cabinet. "Could you please tell me where the bathrooms are?" She didn't notice until she heard his voice that she was standing right next to Detective McGregor.

"How the hell should I know?" he suddenly snapped into the phone, drowning out the young nurse's answer. "Do you really think I care?! ...Just _find them_, O'Shea! ...I don't care _how_, dammit, just _do it_! ..._Because I **said so!**_" He slammed the phone down and began to scribble furiously in his notebook. He barely moved his lips as he muttered curses at the phantom O'Shea under his breath. Suddenly he ground his teeth together, his jaw clenching so tightly that a muscle was thrown into sharp relief.

The nurse tried again, casting a wary eye toward the angry detective. "The bathrooms are just down this hall," she said, pointing. "Second door on your left."

"Thank you," Daria said, starting down the hallway. McGregor looked up at the sound of her voice.

"Wait," he called. Daria halted. "You're the girl from the emergency call tape. I need your name, miss."

"Daria Morgendorffer," she answered without turning.

"Excuse me?"

She sighed, retracing her steps to his side. She held out her hand for his notebook and pen. He arched a brow at her before flipping to a clean page and handing it over. She carefully printed her name, all the while feeling his eyes boring holes into her scalp. She finished her name and looked up at him.

He was about as tall as Trent though rather more intimidating, given his considerable breadth. _I bet he was a football player in high school_, she thought, absently eyeing the width of his shoulders. Unconsciously, she scrutinized the rest of his facial features: heavy, square jaw covered in dark stubble, a thin mouth and Roman nose. His eyes were deep-set and grey, the delicate skin at the corners lightly creased with the beginnings of crow's feet. He had a thick thatch of dark brown hair, that had clearly not been trimmed in quite some time, given the way it curled over his collar and fell into his eyes. Overall, he had a conventional, "ruggedly handsome" face, though there was something about it that put Daria on edge. Maybe it was the derisive slant to his mouth, or the hawkish look in his eyes as he regarded her.

Daria was careful to keep her face impassive as she handed his notebook back to him. "Will there be anything else, Detective?"

His lips twisted up at the corners. He opened his mouth to answer when the phone rang. He snatched it up before the nurse could, his eyes never leaving Daria's. "They'd better be on their way, O'Shea," he hissed without preamble. He kept the receiver to his ear but moved the mouthpiece away. "Not at the moment, Miss--" he glanced at his notebook. "Morgendorffer."

She nodded once and moved away down the hall, forgoing the bathroom and instead returning to the waiting room. Behind her, she heard McGregor slam down the phone and curse. She could feel his eyes on her.

* * *

"Man, I just can't get over it."

"What?"

"The fact that it could've been one of us in there, in _here_, instead of that girl."

"Yeah... Do you think she'll make it?"

"I hope so... It scares me, you know?"

"That it could've been one of us?"

"Yes. No. I dunno... I just keep thinking about my daughter... It's been awhile since I've seen her, you know. Annie said I couldn't until I cleaned up..."

* * *

It was about one o'clock in the morning, Sunday, and the gang had been there exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes when Detective McGregor stalked through the doors of the waiting room and motioned for Trent. Daria and Jane watched as McGregor spoke quietly to Trent for a moment, his hand on Trent's wiry shoulder. Trent didn't say a word. Abruptly, McGregor turned on his heel and left.

"What do you think that was about?" Jane whispered anxiously at Daria. "He can't possibly think that Trent had anything to do with that girl..."

"Well, it is kind of suspicious," Daria said as Jane trailed off worriedly. "A bunch of strangers waiting stoically for a girl they'd supposedly never met to wake up. I mean, we pretty much did all we could by calling nine-one-one. What business do we have here?" she said, rubbing her eyes and sighing. "We don't even know her name..."

"Olivia Hart," Trent's voice rumbled directly in front of her. Daria's eyes popped open and fixed on his. The void expression that had devoured them before was gone. Their deep, onyx color now shined with a heavy sadness. "Her name was Olivia Hart. She was seventeen years old..." His voice cracked. Jane stood immediately, her arms snaking around him, her own cobalt eyes shut tight. Daria had to force herself to breath.

_Seventeen... She was younger than me, younger than all of us... She was just Quinn's age..._

"Was?" A horrified whisper punctured Daria's thoughts. She looked up. Nick and Max had returned from the cafeteria with coffees. "What do you mean was?" Max demanded again, his voice rising uncontrollably. Nick collapsed in a chair, running shaky hands through his hair. Trent shook his head grimly in answer, his arms tightening around his sister for comfort.

Daria watched without really registering anything as Delaney whispered more insistently to Jesse, who didn't seem to be taking in a word she was saying. Suddenly he stood and when Delaney spoke aloud, her voice was strained to the point of breaking. "Jesse, you have got to _stop_ this!"

Trent turned toward them, still holding onto Jane. "Jess, man..." He trailed off as Jesse started toward the doors.

"Jesse," Jane called. "Where are you going? Jesse, _stop_!"

Jesse stopped. Trent released Jane and went to his friend. "What's going on, man?"

Jesse turned and his face crumpled. "_I was too late_."

"Don't be stupid," Delaney snapped, surprising everyone. Delaney ignored them and, marching up to him, glared Jesse in the eye. "You did everything you could to save that girl. After you found her, the first thing you did was cut off the music so you could be heard calling for help. If you want to blame anyone for her death, blame her! She did it to herself!"

Jesse dropped his eyes. "But she was so--"

"So what? So young? _Stupid?" _Delaney demanded. "She was barely younger than Jane, Daria and I. She was the same age as Daria's sister. She was old enough to know better. Her choice **is not** your fault!"

Jesse nodded meekly. "It's just... My little brother is starting to get into some trouble, you know? It-it just freaks me out to think that something like this could happen to him. He's only fifteen. He's my baby-brother..."

"What's been going on, Jess?" Jane asked him, her voice tinged with concern. Danny Moreno and she had a long history of playing tag-along with their brothers; usually together. "What kind of trouble has Danny been in?"

Jesse laughed hollowly. "He was busted on a count of possession and possession with intent to sell."

Jane's concern disappeared as she scowled. "When did this happen?" she growled.

"A few weeks ago."

"_And no one told me?" _she screeched. She turned on her brother. "_You_ didn't tell me?"

Trent didn't answer, but he did back up a pace.

"I asked him not to," Jesse told her. "It's not exactly something Danny wants getting around, you know? If only to save himself from Ms. Li." His voice had turned bitter. "But she'll find out eventually; you know how security crazy she is."

* * *

"I don't think that I can sleep after this," Max muttered as the gang trooped out of the hospital, cutting across the lot toward The Tank. "My nerves are going overtime... Let's get something to eat."

"You think you can stomach something?" Nick asked, incredulous.

Max shook his head. "No, but ordering, waiting and then staring blankly at a plate of food sounds far more productive than just staring blankly at The Tank's interior."

Nick mulled this over and nodded. "I agree. Let's go."

"I know a nice place for you guys to go," Delaney offered. "It's called _The Daily Grind_."

"You're not coming?"

"Nah. I feel more like a moonlit swim."

Nick and Max stared at her. "Right," Nick finally said then suddenly turned to Daria. "Can I borrow your phone? I would've used the pay-phones inside but I don't have any quarters."

Daria shrugged and handed her cell over. She saw Trent and Jesse exchange glances; Max even looked up from scribbling Delaney's direction on his arm. Apparently, they all knew who Nick was going to call. Jane stood by Daria and watched as Nick paced up and down the parking lot a short distance away, waiting for the other line to pick up. He was chewing a thumbnail distractedly. His face lit up when it did.

"Annie? Annie, don't hang up!... I know it's late, I know. I'm sorry, I just... No, I'm not... I swear!... Annie, I swear, I'm not. Please, I just... Alright... Okay, alright!... Just—just tell Hannah I love her. Please?... Thanks... I know... I know... And Annie?... I'm sorry." He waited a moment before disconnecting.

Nick ran his hands through his hair and sighed, then abruptly composed himself and handed Daria her phone. "Thanks, Daria."

Daria shrugged again but Jane offered him a small smile. Daria wondered why. Nick rejoined his band-mates and Jane quietly answered Daria's unspoken question. "Annie was his girlfriend since their freshman year. Only one he ever had, actually, and I've known Nick almost my entire life," she said as they watched Nick, Max and Jesse play hacky-sack as Trent and Delaney spoke quietly under a nearby tree. "Anyway, things didn't work out between them last year and now Annie won't let Nick see Hannah, their daughter. Nick's taking it pretty hard. She hasn't brought the courts into it, yet, but it's only a matter of time."

"Why won't she let him see his kid?"

Jane shrugged. "I don't know. Annie always seemed really nice and reasonable, she must have her reasons." She shrugged again. "Maybe she just got sick of him being a dishwasher trying to cut it as a deadbeat musician." Jane toed some pebbles and stuffed her hands into her pockets as Daria stared at her in surprise.

"Hey, Trent!" she suddenly called. Trent turned. "Still gonna make that noon audition?" Trent nodded and went back to his conversation with Delaney. Jane snorted, her eyes narrowed. "Sure he will."

A few minutes later, the gang went their separate ways.


	8. Episode 8: Spiraling Down

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 8: Spiraling Down

By: Farren O'Blivion

Nick and Max had wandered off first, headed to _The Daily Grind_ via Delaney's directions (ingeniously scribbled upon Max's forearm). Daria was absently watching their cigarette cherries winking through the darkness as they disappeared down the street when Jane suddenly nudged her ribs, breaking into her thoughts. She looked up to see Jesse being led toward The Tank by Delaney, their arms linked, heads bent close together.

"Jesse's still beating himself up over that girl… Olivia Hart…" Jane murmured glumly. "The guys tried to distract him with hacky-sack but, well… Delaney's trying to talk some sense into him again… I hope."

Daria's eyes drifted to Trent.

He stood as loose-limbed as ever, one hand shoved deep into a pants pocket, the other carelessly flicking an unlit cigarette as he watched the two cross the parking lot. She studied him intently, trying to decipher his body language. Her breath caught when he unexpectedly turned his face toward her, his gaze as dark and unfathomable as it had been in the pub. He crushed the cigarette between his long fingers, grinding the paper. Flecks of brown and russet tobacco scattered across the macadam. Their eyes locked for a moment, or maybe just a fraction of a second, but Daria felt chills stab at her spine at his expression. He looked… _cruel._

_What the Hell is going __**on**__ with him?_

"In you get," Delaney's voice broke through the night air (startling Daria) as she settled a weary-faced Jesse into the passenger's seat of the Tank. She turned to the others. "You guys ready to go?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Daria saw Trent flick the cigarette filter into the mulch at his feet. She shivered.

"Miss Morgenschlepper!" a voice called from across the hospital parking lot. The gang turned. A large man was standing by the Emergency doors, hands in the pockets of a sweeping trench coat. Back lit by the fluorescent lights, his face was in shadow, but Daria knew who he was.

"It's Morgen_dorffer_, Detective McGregor," she drawled. Jane and Trent both gave a nervous jolt.

McGregor stepped off the curb and moseyed toward them. "My apologies, Miss Morgendorffer." It almost sounded sincere. He glanced around at them all. "Headed home?"

"Headed back to the dorms, at least," Daria answered. "Did you need something, Detective?"

He arched a brow at her as he withdrew his trusty notepad from his pocket. "Statements. I meant to get them inside, but there were other matters to attend to."

_Yeah, like a dead girl_, Daria thought, almost sickened by her own callousness.

"Now, you're the one that called nine-one-one, correct?" McGregor asked her, pointing his pen at her. Daria nodded. "And where were you prior to the call?"

"I was languishing as a wallflower across from the bar," she quipped before she could stop herself. _He's a cop,_ she hissed at herself. _Tread lightly._

McGregor merely cocked his brow again before jotting it down. "And you are?" he asked, turning to Jane.

She cleared her throat. "Jane Lane."

"Any relation to Trent Lane?"

"Sister." He jotted that down.

"And where were you at the time, Miss Lane?"

Jane's lip twitched. "Languishing next to Daria."

The man stared at them, clearly not amused. "Think you two can refrain from any more snarky comments so I can get on with my job?" he asked, a dark edge to his voice. "In case you've forgotten, there's a seventeen-year-old girl in the morgue right now from an overdose and I'd like to find out just _how_ that little girl managed to get her hands on some very dangerous, very illegal drugs," he snarled at them, grey eyes narrowed to slits. "So I'd _appreciate_ it if you'd cooperate and let me get on with it. Think you can manage?"

"We were standing across from the bar," Daria said, shamed. "Jane, Trent, and myself." McGregor stared at them a moment more before turning back to his notepad.

"And the others?"

Daria hesitated. Delaney stepped forward. "I'm Delaney Connors. I was at the bar with Nick. Max had gone outside."

McGregor turned to her. "Names, please."

"Nick Campbell and Max Tyler," Trent recited, appearing next to Delaney. "They just left." McGregor jotted that down.

"And 'Jesse' discovered the girl in the bathroom?"

"Yeah, Jesse Moreno." McGregor jotted that down.

"Did he leave with the others?"

"He's in the van."

McGregor glanced over at Jesse, slumped in the passenger's seat, watching them. His face was haggard and unusually pale. "He sick?" the detective asked.

"He's… shaken," Delaney answered quietly.

"He's been that way since he found…" Trent trailed off.

"Olivia Hart," Jane finished for him, hugging herself. Trent put his arm around her.

McGregor stalked over to Jesse. Trent made to follow but Daria grabbed his elbow to keep him back. "If you follow him, McGregor may see it as you trying to influence Jesse's answers," she hissed at him. "Jesse can account for where he was himself."

He glared at her but she didn't relinquish her hold until Delaney whispered, "She's right, Trent. Listen to her."

"_Fine_," he hissed.

The four of them watched as the detective interviewed Jesse, only catching glimpses of the musician over McGregor's broad shoulder. "My God, he looks terrible," Jane whispered, eyes widening at the sight of Jesse's drawn face as he nodded in answer to something.

_I concur_, Daria thought. _But finding what appears to be a dead-body has that affect on most people. _She glanced at Trent uneasily.

McGregor suddenly clapped Jesse on the shoulder and turned away. He motioned for the others to join them as Jesse rolled his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes, looking utterly exhausted. "I've got everything I need for now," he said as they approached. "but I may need to speak to you again sometime down the road." They all nodded.

Jane reached out and clasped Jesse's wrist. He opened his eyes and smiled slightly at her as he turned his hand palm-up to clasp her wrist in return. Jane smiled slightly.

"Anyway," McGregor continued. "Get yourselves home and get some rest. Here--" he reached into his pocket and drew out a few battered business cards which he handed to Delaney. "Those have my number and the station's number; just call if you happen to remember anything or anyone unusual you may have seen... Okay?" They all nodded again. The man flipped his notepad closed and stuffed it into his pockets, tromping away as he did so. They began to clamber into The Tank, anxious to leave.

"Oh, one more thing," McGregor called from beside the Emergency doors. There was a collective grimace. "You'll really need to install a backseat with some belts if you plan to spend any time in this city. These traffic cops are real hard-asses." He disappeared inside.

The gang glanced around at each other. There was a collective grin.

* * *

Delaney was driving. Jesse had stayed in the passenger's seat. They had covered him with his sleeping bag, exchanging worried glances over his pallid coloring. Jane knelt in between the seats, holding Jesse's hand, smiling encouragingly whenever he opened his eyes. Daria and Trent shared the trunk. Daria kept her face turned away from Trent, feigning interest in the Boston architecture as they drove by. Trent did not move at all.

It was a silent ride back to Raft.

When they arrived, Daria was out of the van almost before it stopped moving. Being next to Trent was oppressive... His shift in mood from 'laid-back' to '…'was putting her on edge.

The others followed at a more leisurely pace, Jane exiting behind Daria, Delaney circling around the front. Trent and Jesse did not emerge. They could hear him in the back, fumbling around with the trunk, and then the whisper of waterproof cloth and zippers against metal. He was readying the sleeping bags.

"Jess, man, come on," they heard him say. Jesse groaned. "You need sleep."

"How is he going to sleep in there?" Jane demanded. "It's too crowded."

"Well, where else is he gonna go?" Trent shot back.

"He could sleep in the dorm," Daria said, surprising herself as well as the others. Trent had stilled his fumblings. She continued despite the fact that Jane was nearly gaping at her. "He could have my bed. I'll sleep on the floor with Jane."

"That won't be necessary," Delaney said. "I'm going out, so Jesse can have my bed instead. I told you I'm a night owl. Sorry Jane, but you're stuck on the floor."

"Just don't step on me. I wouldn't want to get stuck on your sole," Jane quipped. Delaney grinned.

"Then it's settled," she said. "…Trent?"

"Yeah, fine," he muttered from the dark. "Whatever." He hopped out of the van and pulled opened the passenger door. Jesse practically slid out of the seat into Trent's arms.

Surprisingly, Trent did not collapse under the weight. He skillfully positioned Jesse's arm around his shoulders, gripping the wrist, his other arm snaking around his friend's waist as he hauled him to his feet. Jane did the same on his other side. "Come on, Jess," Trent grunted, practically dragging him towards the dorms.

"I'll get the doors," Daria said, hurrying ahead. She unlocked the entrance doors and left them propped open before hightailing it up to the room where she turned down the covers on Delaney's bed. The others entered a few minutes later, gently depositing Jesse on the bed. Jane knelt to remove his boots before stuffing his feet under the covers.

"Thanks, guys," Jesse murmured, turning his face toward the wall and immediately conking out. Jane snorted in amusement.

Trent ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "You guys get some rest." He stalked out the door without another word.

"Aren't you going with him?" Daria asked Delaney before she could stop herself.

Delaney merely shrugged. "Nope." She rummaged through the box of books on her dresser. "I don't feel much like a moonlit swim anymore, so I think I'll join Nick and Max at The 'Grind... Wanna come?" she asked, extracting a hefty tome. Jane shook her head.

"Nah, I'll stay here in case Jess wakes up. He tends to get disoriented..."

Daria bit her tongue at that. Delaney nodded absently as she donned a leather jacket.

"Well, I'll see you guys later, then."

"Yeah. Later," they said. Delaney left. Daria plopped down on the edge of her bed and watched Jane hover over the inert form of Jesse for a few minutes before saying, "I'm sure he'll be fine, Jane."

The raven-haired girl sighed. "I've seen him sick before, but never like this... I keep thinking about Tommy Sherman."

Daria looked away and flicked the curtain back on her window. Movement caught her eye. Delaney. "Didn't he haunt the girls' bathroom until Brittany planted Kevin's crutch?"

Jane chuckled. "Yeah, after Kevin ran over the 'Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree' on his _scooter_ and busted his knee."

Suddenly a figure appeared at Delaney's side. It was Trent. Daria watched as they crossed the lot toward Delaney's truck. _I've got to stop this. I feel like a Peeping Tom. _She turned away. "That was during his rebel phase. Why are you thinking about Sherman?"

Jane sighed again and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, collapsing onto Delaney's desk chair. "I dunno." She slowly pivoted in the chair. Outside, Delaney's truck coughed and sputtered as someone tried to start it before finally roaring to life. Daria frowned. _There they go._

"Who do you think makes the calls?" Jane asked suddenly.

"What calls?"

"To tell you that your son's head was split open or that your daughter was found in a nasty bathroom with a needle in her arm--who makes those calls?" She shot from the chair and began pacing the room. "Do the detectives do it? Or are there specially hired people with _soothing_ voices? And pagers that blink on in the night to give the families' number..." She stopped in her tracks and rounded on Daria. "Who _is_ the Messenger of Death?"

Daria glanced away. In the throes of a fitful slumber, Jesse grimaced and mumbled intelligibly, distracting Jane. She perched beside him on the bed, watching his face intently. After a moment, his grimace dissipated and he quieted. Daria stood. "I'm going for a walk."

Jane looked up in some surprise. "Alone?"

"Yeah," Daria shrugged, heading toward the door. "Just around campus. I won't be long."

"Okay, I'll wait up for you."

"You don't have to do that."

Jane smirked. "I'm a Lane, Daria. We thrive in the night."

Daria smirked in return. "As Trent once said, 'The night holds the key.'"

Jane chuckled. "The key to what?"

"I dunno. It was early."

* * *

Daria tromped as quietly as she could down the stairs. _It's almost amazing, _she thought as she passed by her peers' closed doors. _Everyone else on this campus sleeps soundly, having no idea that Olivia Hart died this morning. _She pushed through the double doors. _They might read about her in the paper later while they're sipping coffee._ She stopped outside the doors and inhaled deeply. _'Seventeen,' they'll mutter. 'Drugs,' they'll grumble. _She sighed and removed her glasses, wiping them on her shirt hem. _They won't know that she could have passed for twelve, she was so little. So innocent looking with her blonde curls. She was the girl-next-door. For somebody..._

Unconsciously, she scanned the parking lot. The Tank was there but Delaney's truck was gone. She dug her cellphone out of her jacket, flipping it open to check the time. _2:37. I don't think the Spirals are going to make that noon audition. _She stuffed the phone back into her pocket, rubbing her eyes. _Jane won't be surprised. _

She gasped as a hand suddenly gripped her shoulder. Her heart almost burst out of her chest in panic.

"Daria."


	9. Episode 9: All Roads

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 9: All Roads

By: Farren O'Blivion

She drew in a ragged breath, still reeling from the shock of being grabbed.

"Daria," Trent repeated, stepping out of the shadows by the doorway. "What are you doing out?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she snapped, glaring at him. His grip on her shoulder tightened briefly before dropping away. He had an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

They stared at each other in silence.

"I thought you'd gone off with Delaney," Daria finally said. Trent arched a brow at her. "She said she was going to join Nick and Max...." she trailed off nervously as she realized how close he was standing.

"Yeah, I know," he rumbled, obsidian eyes locked on her face. "At The 'Grind. Janey sleeping?"

"No."

Trent's eyes flashed. "Then why are you out here alone?"

Daria fought the urge to back up a pace; it was _Trent_, after all. She crossed her arms instead. "I felt like a walk and Jane didn't want to leave Jesse alone."

Trent frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Just around campus."

"Hmmm." He placed the cigarette behind his ear and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'll walk with you."

"Um..." Daria hesitated. "Okay, I guess."

They started off down the walkway, moving away from the parking lot and toward the main campus. Every twenty feet or so, as they passed under a lamppost, Daria would glance over at Trent. He didn't seem to notice.

Daria knew (from the drive-by with Tom and his mom) that the Raft campus was a gigantic circle, dorms, fraternities and sororities ringing the edge. All academic buildings were cloistered within. If you were to pick any of the labyrinthine walkways to follow, it would lead to a mammoth water fountain topped with a life-size statue of Barnaby Archibald Raft, the college founder, with an inscription round the base which read, 'All Roads Lead to Raft.'

_How clever_, Daria thought, eyeing the statue as they approached. _I wonder if any roads lead away. If so, I'll take that one..._

Trent stopped at the brink of the fountain, peering up at the statue. He took the cigarette from behind his ear and a silver Zippo from his pocket. Sticking the cigarette between his lips, he quickly drew the Zippo across his thigh, flipping up the lid and then just as quickly, repeated the motion in the opposite direction, causing the wick to light. He cupped his hand around the flame and brought it to his mouth, inhaling deeply. With a flick of his wrist the Zippo's cover closed with a metallic _clink_. He stuffed it back into his pocket.

"He looks like a tool," Trent said in his scratchy voice, gesturing at Barnaby's granite face. Daria smirked. A breeze swept past them and she shivered, crossing her arms. Late September in Boston was _cold_. Trent glanced at her; the moonlight reflecting off the rippling water danced across his face, made his eyes glitter strangely. Daria hugged herself more tightly.

Trent took a long, slow drag off his cigarette.

* * *

_Scuffed, peeling linoleum. Rotting, wooden stalls pockmarked by knives, pen ink indecipherable upon the chipped paint. Dark rust stains on the porcelain. Spray-paint covering the walls. A cracked mirror hung over a dirty sink._

_She was slumped in the corner, almost in a fetal position. Bright blonde hair, in loose curls, splayed across her face. Skin a stark white. Dark lipstick, eyeshadow. Heavy black boots, purple and black striped tights, black miniskirt, tight purple tank-top. Was she sleeping?_

_He crouched down, reached out, touched her shoulder, froze. Needle. In her arm, needle. He shot to his feet, turned on his heel and ran. Help, had to find HELP! People, people everywhere, too LOUD! HELP! Glanced to the side, dull orange cord, yanked it out. Silence._

"_Someone call nine-one-one! HURRY!"_

_* * *_

Jesse shot upright, gasping for breath. His heart was pounding a mile-a-minute, fingers clutching at the bedclothes. He tried to lift a hand to brush away the hair in his eyes but found he couldn't. He glanced down, squinting through the dark.

Jane was sitting on the floor, propped against the bed and dresser, using the mattress as a pillow. One of her hands was gripping his. He smiled. _No wonder._

Jesse gently freed his hand before proceeding to disentangle himself from the covers. He slid from the bed and stood over her. A few strands of hair hung in front of her face, sticking to her slightly parted lips, occasionally stirring with her shallow breaths. He reached out to brush them away. His hand stilled as the nightmare came back to him full-force.

..._slumped in the corner...hair splayed across her face...dark lipstick...heavy boots...Was she sleeping?_

Jesse shook his head to clear it, ran a hand over his face, through his hair. He stared at Jane for a moment or two, forcing himself to remain still, to not shake Jane awake. _There is no needle_, he chanted to himself. _There is no needle._

Sighing, he stooped and took care not to jostle the girl too much as he gathered her up in his arms. She murmured sleepily and he paused. He cradled her to his chest. _I've known her since she was a baby, _he mused, studying her face intently. _Just a baby. Danny wasn't even born yet. _He lowered her to the bed. _Now she's grown, eighteen years old... God, still so young... _He pulled back, kneeling at the bedside, and gazed at her sleeping face. The hairs were still caught in her lipstick; he lightly ran his thumb across her lips to remove them. It must have tickled because she twitched, turned her head away and grumbled under her breath, frowning briefly before giving a little _snerk_ sound and settling down. She began to snore faintly.

Jesse snickered. He grabbed her discarded sleeping bag and smoothed it out by the bed. He crawled inside and sighed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Unconsciously, he reached out and clasped Jane's hand. Sighing contently, his eyes drifted shut...

* * *

Nick and Max were seated in a booth by the windows in The Daily Grind, staring blankly at the steam rising from their cups of coffee. Max idly stirred his with a straw, occasionally pressing his finger over the end to trap the liquid inside before lifting it out and releasing it. Nick watched the passersby without interest.

"Seventeen," he suddenly muttered, running a hand through his hair. "God, where the hell were _we_ at seventeen?"

"Stoned out of our minds and planning a trip to California," Max answered without looking up.

"Yeah, and then Annie told me she was pregnant, so I couldn't go."

"No, that was after," Max said. "Trent canceled the trip, remember?"

Nick's eyes unfocused as he thought back. He frowned. "Oh, yeah... Trent had to stay and look after Jane because their parents had left for... Paraguay, wasn't it?"

Max snorted bitterly. "Yeah, right as _we_ were about to leave."

"He'd just turned eighteen. She was, what? Twelve, thirteen maybe? Yeah... Man, can you believe that was _five_ years ago?" Nick chuckled but it died as a realization hit him. "Five years... What have we been _doing_?"

Max looked up at him. "It's been nine years since we formed Mystik Spiral." They were silent for a moment.

"Hannah's birthday is coming up; she'll be five," Nick murmured, absently picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "Annie... Annie doesn't believe me, believe that I've cleaned up, stopped the hard stuff." He glanced at Max. "She said that, since I'm still hanging out with you guys, it's very 'unlikely' that I've stopped—"

"We've _all _stopped," Max growled, twisting the straw around his fingers, pulling and stretching it beyond use. "We've _all_ cleaned up!"

Nick nodded solemnly. "I know, but I can't really expect Annie to take me at my word after all that I did to her... did to Hannah..." he trailed off. After a moment, he blurted, "I need to be there, Max. For Hannah, I need to be there. She'll be five and soon enough she'll be grown and in some seedy club like The Zon and acting—acting just like _I _did... I don't want to lose my baby, Max. Not like _he_ did, not like Olivia Hart's daddy... _I need to_ _be there_!" His voice broke and he turned away, forced himself to endure the painful burning behind his eyes.

Max remained silent.

"We'll make a go of it here, Nicky," he finally said, keeping his eyes averted. "One last go, like Trent said."

"Yeah," Nick sighed. "One last go." He watched a truck pull up at the curb. "Hey, Delaney's here." Max glanced out of the window, an odd, pensive look flitting across his face. Nick caught it. "Something wrong?"

Max scowled and shook his head. "Just thinking." Nick frowned at him as Delaney breezed through the door, a little silver bell tinkling loudly at her entrance. They both nodded a greeting as she sauntered over. "Hey guys," she said.

"Decided to forgo the midnight swim, huh?" Nick asked teasingly.

"Yeah, decided to grace you chumps with my presence instead," she retorted, slipping into the seat next to Max.

He snorted. "How flattering!" Delaney smiled.

"Whatcha talking about?"

"Just reminiscing about the good ol' days," Nick said sardonically. Max scoffed.

Delaney raised her brows and glanced at the clock on the wall behind Nick's head. "It's almost three. You guys gonna make that audition?"

Nick rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "I forgot about that."

"Well, I can take you guys back now; you can get _some _sleep, like, six or seven hours maybe," Delaney offered, jingling the keys in her leather's pocket.

Nick glanced at Max. He shrugged. "Yeah, okay." Delaney stood and the boys slid out of the booth to join her. "We 'gods of rock' need our beauty-sleep after all," Nick joked.

They strolled out the door and piled into Delaney's truck, taking care not to crush the guitar hidden under the seat.

* * *

"Did you mean what you said?" Trent suddenly asked, startling Daria. Y_et again,_ he mused, fighting down a snicker.

They'd been standing in silence for the better part of fifteen minutes so his voice was like the crack of a whip through the stillness.

Daria frowned. "What did I say?"

Trent ran an agitated hand through his spiky hair and flicked the butt of his cigarette into the fountain. He turned toward her. "'It takes a lot of guts to go after a dream, especially when you know that failure can mean spending the rest of your life play—'" he stopped abruptly and turned away, scowling. "Nevermind," he grumbled, finger-combing his hair again.

Daria's eyes widened in surprise. "'—playing _L.A. Woman_ in public,'" she finished for him, low-voiced. He looked up at her sharply. "'And even if it doesn't work out, at least for now you're doing exactly what you want to.'" He took a step nearer. She continued despite her discomfort. "'A lot of people never even get that far.'" They stared at each other for a few moments before she finally said, "Yes, I meant it."

He took another step closer. "Really?" he breathed, not more than a foot away from her. "Deep down?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Or were you just saying that because you liked me?"

The auburn haired girl blinked in shock, fighting internally to keep her face blank. "It's really late, Trent," she monotoned, ignoring the dark glitter of his eyes, the gleam of his teeth as he smiled. "And you told Jane that you'd make that audition. We should get back."

She turned away from him and started walking toward her dorm, half-expecting to be tackled. _He looked so... __**feral**__._ Behind her, she heard the crinkle of cellophane and the metallic _clink _of a Zippo. She might have imagined it, but it almost sounded like he had chuckled...

_Cruelly.

* * *

_

They didn't pause to exchange good-nights. Daria bid a disinterested "'Night." over her shoulder before disappearing inside. Trent did not reply.

He strolled through the parking lot, smoking leisurely, head tilted back to gaze at the stars. He saw a shooting star and his lips pulled back in a leer. He chuckled darkly to himself before flicking his cigarette away. He slid into the driver's seat of The Tank, glancing across the lot once (_Delaney's still gone._) before his eyes settled on a second-story window.

Trent settled into the seat and lit another cigarette as he watched the window. A light blazed briefly before a softer glow appeared. _The desk-lamp, no doubt._ Suddenly, headlights cut across his face as an old Chevy truck rattled into the lot. Trent scowled and licked his fingers before pinching the cigarette's cherry, effectively snuffing it out. He stored the cigarette behind his ear and peered through lowered lashes as the truck stopped by The Tank and two figures emerged from the cab. _Nick and Max._ He heard laughter, a door slam, feet scuffing pavement. One of the figures waved as the truck clattered off. The Tank's sliding door was opened, Nick and Max scrambled inside, dropping their voices when they spotted him, puffing and blowing on their hands to warm them, struggling with their sleeping bags.

Trent did not move.

The boys finally got settled. In a few moments, Trent heard the unmistakable sounds of snoring. Only then did he remove the cigarette from behind his ear and relight it. Only then did he resume his silent vigil of the second-story window.


	10. Episode 10: Like Candy

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 10: Like Candy

By: Farren O'Blivion

Trent couldn't remember the last time he'd watched a sunrise... _Probably in that commune, before Janey was born._

In a detached haze, he watched the sky morph from an inky plum to smoky-grey before a green tinge appeared on the horizon, skimming the treetops across the road. Slowly, oh so slowly, it brightened to a chalky hue and then finally settled on a lovely robin's egg blue. Trent remembered that color from Janey's first paint set.

The skin around his eyes prickled but he did not blink. Instead, he reached over to the glove-compartment, cursing under his breath as his chilled fingers fumbled with the lever, and fished out a bottle of No-Doz. _My new best-friend_, he thought to himself, a caustic smile curving his lips. _Caffeine's as good as any drug._

He popped a couple of the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry as he leaned back into the seat to stuff the little bottle into his front pocket. A cream colored bird landed on The Tank's hood. It blinked and bobbed it's head at him for a moment before taking flight. He followed it with his eyes, at first, but turned his head when he saw it land in a tree by a second-story window; a window lit by the soft glow of a desk-lamp the room's occupant had opted to leave on.

Trent chuckled darkly. _Afraid of the dark, little girl? _

He reached into the glove-box again and extracted a watch with a broken band. 9_:17 a.m. _He stuffed it into his other front pocket and went back to watching the early birds root for worms in the medians that bordered the parking lot. A scrawny female managed to snag one but a larger bird rushed her with widespread wings and snatched it away from her; she scuttled away. Trent jerked the door handle open before he realized it.

"Hey!" he called as he stepped away from the vehicle, neglecting to shut the door. The cool morning air pierced his skin like burning pins but he ignored it. "Hey, you stupid bird!" He stooped down and caught up a handful of pebbles. "Bully bird!" he accused, flicking a few pebbles at it. It ruffled it's wings nervously and hopped a few steps away. "Fat, bully bird!" he said, flicking more pebbles. "Get lost!"

It hopped farther down the median, hissing petulantly. Trent paused in his assault as the little female darted forward and snatched up what was left of her original prize. She gobbled it down quickly and the large male flapped off in the opposite direction.

"Yeah, you better fly away!" Trent snapped, flinging another pebble after him just for good measure. "And if my van is covered in bird-shit later, I'll know exactly who's responsible!"

He dropped the rest of his ammo on the macadam. They made a light _ski-skee_ sound as they hit and bounced. Trent stood there for a moment more and watched the shabby female resume her work. The morning air was soaking into him, chilling him to the bone, but Trent refused to shiver, refused to rub warmth back into his limbs. He took his last cigarette from behind his ear, the Zippo from his pocket and lit up.

_Nicotine: my anti-drug_, Trent mused, chuckling.

"What the hell are you doing, man?" A groggy voice called from behind him. Trent turned. Nick, half-wrapped in his sleeping bag, was hanging out the driver's side door of The Tank. "It's freezing!"

Trent stalked over to him. "The birds woke me up," he said, tossing his cigarette. "I was scaring 'em off." Nick moved over to the passenger's seat and arranged his sleeping bag more comfortably as Trent climbed in and slammed the door. He turned the key in the ignition and blasted the surprisingly functional heaters. Trent gazed at them distastefully.

"What time is it, man?" Nick asked, yawning. Trent dug into his pocket and tossed the watch over to him. Nick blinked blearily and peered at it. "Nine forty-two. Well, I guess it's time to get ready... We _were_ going to that audition, right, man?" Trent nodded. "Sleeping Beauty still upstairs with the girls?"

"As far as I know," Trent managed to answer before his jaw tightened.

"Great. He'll be able to sneak us in."

"Some dude in a golf-cart was going around unlocking doors and turning off lights around nine."

"Cool," Nick said around his yawn. "I'll wake M—"

"S_hut_ _up!_" Max exclaimed from deep in his sleeping bag.

"—ax." Nick grinned. "Wakey, wakey, Maxi-baby! We've got an audition." A series of curses and grumbles emitted from the sleeping bag as Max began extracting himself; Nick laughed them off.

"Hey, Max, get the bags," Trent said.

"'_Get the bags, Max!' _What am I, the roadie?" Max's shiny pate popped up between the seats. "Where are they?" he asked, kicking the rest of the way out of his bag.

"In the trunk, man," Trent answered as Nick tried to muffle his laughter.

"You'd make an excellent roadie, Maxi! Hey, Trent, we don't _really_ need a drummer, do we?"

"Screw you, bass-boy." Max shot Nick a dirty look before scrambling to the very back of the van where all of their gear was stacked. The trunk, which they stored on it's end when not being used as a backseat, was shoved in the corner by the amps. Max pushed it over carelessly, ignored the resulting _bang, _and flipped up the lid. He extracted two small duffel bags and tossed them toward the front.

"Hey!" Nick cried, rubbing the back of his head. Max fluttered his lashes innocently.

"Come on," Trent said, turning the van off and pocketing the keys. "There's a bathroom on the second floor. Let's get Jess and find some breakfast."

* * *

Daria awoke at the first bout of light taps on her door without really registering them. She sat up and donned her glasses, pushing a hand through her tangled mass of hair and yawning. She glanced around the room, frowning (something was _off_) before her eyes focused on Jesse and Jane. She'd found them like that when she'd walked in: positions switched, hands clasped.

Daria shook her head. Last night in the pub, Jane had related to her how she'd seen Trent and Jesse arguing outside, a rare occurrence between them; she didn't know what about exactly but she'd heard her name enough times to guess. Jane had laughed and told her, "Trent doesn't mind me hanging out with guys as long as he doesn't know them!"

_Interesting_, Daria thought. _Is it that Trent doesn't trust his friends around Jane, or Jane around his friends?_

Another few taps sounded on the door and she jumped, startled. "Who is it?"

"Daria?" a scratchy voice called from the other side of the door. Daria's eyes went wide. She glanced back at Jane and Jesse's intertwined fingers. "Daria, let me in!" Trent called again, rattling the knob.

She threw her covers back. "Erm... Just a second!" Quickly stepping over to the sleeping pair, she grasped each of their wrists, prying their hands apart. Both awoke, blinking dazedly up at her. "Guys, get up!" she whispered, tugging at her friend's arm.

Jane tried to push her away, turning toward the wall with a small grumble. Jesse crawled out of the sleeping bag and shot Daria a sheepish little grin. "Jane, get out of the bed!" Daria hissed at her. "Trent is at the door!" Jane immediately jumped up (Daria had _never_ seen her move so fast in the morning) while Jesse kicked the sleeping bag over toward Daria's bed. They exchanged glances, then nodded for Daria to open the door.

_Have they done this before? _Daria wondered, narrowing her eyes at them. Jane smirked as if she'd heard her.

Daria turned to open the door and avoided making eye-contact with Trent as he stepped into the room. Instead, she looked beyond him, into the hallway where Nick and Max waited, two duffels at their feet. They nodded at each other in a brief greeting before Daria crossed to her side of the room and compulsively smoothed her rumpled sheets.

Trent's eyes flicked between his sister and best friend. "You've got some color back, Jess," he finally said. He gestured at the boots by Delaney's desk. "Come on, we've gotta go. Can you keep watch, Janey?"

Jane yawned and stretched as Jesse collected his boots. "Commandeering the showers, big brother?"

"Yeah, we've got that audition..."

Jane glanced at the clock. 10:03. "I thought it was at noon?"

Trent shifted from foot to foot, running a hand through his spiky hair. "Yeah, but we gotta shower, find something to eat, get there a little early to set up... you know."

Jane's brows had climbed as Trent spoke, almost disappearing into her hairline. "Wow... yeah, okay... I'll, uh, I'll keep watch then."

"Just make an 'Out of Order' sign for the door," Daria said. She pointed at her desk without looking at them. "Middle drawer: loose-leaf, highlighters and tape. Help yourselves."

Jane smirked. "Brilliant, Daria!" she trilled, gathering everything and scribbling out the 'warning' with an unnecessary flourish. "Already outsmarting the other students, and school hasn't even started!" She stuck the sign on Jesse's back as he passed by. He mock-scowled at her.

"Hey!" Max suddenly exclaimed from the hallway. "You're back!"

"Let me help you with those," Nick said and there was the sound of crumpling paper. "Max, get the other one." A moment later, Delaney appeared in the doorway holding a large paper sack, Nick and Max just behind her, sporting identical bags (Max sticking his tongue out at Nick's back). Trent and Jesse moved out of their way.

"Thanks guys," Delaney said and plunked the bag on her desk, Nick and Max following suit. She smiled around at them all. "Mornin' all! Who wants breakfast?" Four hands shot up; Nick, Max, Jesse and Jane. Delaney laughed as she removed her jacket. "Alright. Let me just get some water and we'll have eggs, toast and coffee."

Daria glanced over her shoulder at the group that had accumulated in her room and suddenly realized what had seemed off when she's woken. "When the hell did you do _that_?" she demanded, pointing towards the bookcase. The entire gang turned to look.

The appliances the boys had brought up the day before (and crammed by Delaney's desk) were now all un-boxed, the mini-fridge stacked atop the mini-freezer, the coffee maker and toaster crowning it. Daria spotted the camp-stove on the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

Delaney grinned at her. "Last night. Well, actually more like early, early this morning." Her grin widened at Daria's baffled expression. "Glad to see I didn't wake you."

"You moved all of that around _by yourself_?!" Max demanded. "Then why did we—" he broke off as Nick elbowed him in the ribs.

"Wow, you must move like a cat. I didn't hear_ any_thing," Jesse said. Daria detected a hint of uneasiness in his voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jane shift uncomfortably.

"Neither did I," Trent muttered. Everyone but Delaney turned to look at him curiously but he didn't seem to notice.

Jane stalked over to the window, plopping down on Daria's dresser with her arms crossed. "You know," she finally said, glancing over at Trent. "You've been acting rather strange lately."

"Hmmm." He watched as Delaney unpacked the paper bags: bread, eggs, a cannister of coffee, a small bag of sugar, peanut butter, strawberry jam, a small frying pan and a black plastic spatula... A clear plastic bag of what looked to be granola, a tub of butter, a packet of plastic utensils and a mesh-sack of mixed fruit... Gallon of milk, gallon of orange juice, coffee filters and two bottles of flavored creamer.

"Disappearing all the time..." Jane continued. "Erratic hours that don't coincide with your previous erratic hours... Dark circles under your eyes!" She turned toward him, frowning. "I can't remember a time when you had _circles_ under your eyes!"

"Squares, perhaps?" Delaney quipped. She began to stock the mini-fridge with her purchases.

Daria finished fluffing her pillows and glanced around at the guys. Nick and Max were trying to sidle out into the hall, staring in opposite directions, while Jesse was pondering the tips of his boots.

_What the hell is going on?_ Daria thought to herself. _They seem almost frightened._ _But frightened of what? _Her eyes immediately snapped to Trent, but she scoffed inwardly at herself for such an off-the-wall assumption. Then she remembered the way his eyes had glittered so strangely by the fountain. _Trick of the light._ The barren look in the pub. _Overactive imagination... _The look in his eyes now. _Paranoia!_

Daria shook herself out of her musings, glancing over to Jane. She was watching her brother as closely as Daria had been. "Have you been sleeping, Trent?" she asked suddenly, sounding confused by her own question.

Trent laughed, a deep rumbling laugh, before he began coughing convulsively. He turned to her, a manic grin splitting his face, onyx eyes over-bright. Daria suppressed a shudder. "No, Janey, I haven't been sleeping," he confessed, half-glancing at Delaney. "In fact, I've been popping No-Doz like candy all night!"

Jane frowned sulkily at him, bristling at his tone. "I saw you fighting with Jesse last night..." she muttered, arms still crossed. Trent and Jesse both stilled. "What were you arguing about?"

Delaney ripped open the package of filters and began preparing the coffee-maker. Daria watched Trent's eyes flicker strangely, like he was forcing himself not to look away from his sister. "_Jane's Addiction_," he finally said. "The band. Any _other_ private matters you'd like to nose in on, princess?"

Daria stared at him in shock; she'd never heard Trent talk like that to anyone, let alone Jane. Neither had any of the guys, apparently, as their expressions all mirrored Daria's.

Jane glared at him, her face clouding in anger. "You don't have to be such a jerk about it, Trent," she snapped.

"You don't have to be in on _every_thing, Janey!" he retorted, near snarling at her. He spun on his heel abruptly and stomped out, Nick and Max jumping out of his way.

Delaney grabbed the coffee-pot and followed after him. The guys seemed at a loss as to what to do. They all glanced fleetingly at Jane, who'd turned away to stare out the window. Jesse looked to Daria, his face somber, and inclined his head toward Jane. Daria, her eyes wide, nodded vaguely. Jesse backed out into the hall, pushing Nick and Max with him, and gently closed the door.

Daria waved a hand weakly after them. "Okay, tell me the truth... Has Trent been taken over by a pod-person?"

Jane jumped to her feet. "He's morphed back into the real Trent, that's all," she huffed, frown still in place. "No wonder he was fighting with Jess."

Daria was confused. "The _real_ Trent?"

"Trent was... He had _issues_," Jane said, rubbing at her eyes. "He used to get into some pretty nasty fights at school. When he was twelve, the cops wanted to send him to juvie for vandalizing the water-tower. Jesse, too." She picked at some lint on her leggings. "His dad had just walked out on them. Danny was only four. I was barely seven but I remember the day it happened." She sighed. "Jess showed up on our doorstep, hid out in Trent's room all day until Gloria, his mom, came and got him. The next day, Trent moved out into his tent."

She glanced up at Daria. "They met Nick in the principal's office the next year. _Nick _had slammed a boy into the lockers, broken his nose. Tommy Sherman's first, actually," she said with a dark chuckle. "Anyway, Max moved to town later that year. They formed Mystik Spiral soon after... And then everything changed. Trent didn't fight anymore; Trent didn't do _anything_ anymore. Just slept a lot and... and nothing.

"I figured it out after a _DARE_ officer visited my class, what he was doing. Figured out where he was getting it, too." A twisted half-smirk stretched her mouth. "Only thing our parents ever _provided_, I suppose."


	11. Episode 11: Make ups & Do overs

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 11: Make-ups & Do-overs

By: Farren O'Blivion

_And she calls __**me**_ _harsh_, Daria thought, surveying her friend with amazement.

"Danny and I used to worship our brothers. But I'm sure he felt the same way about his father, too, before he walked out on them," Jane said, glaring at a cream colored bird perched on a bough outside the window. After a moment, she continued. "They used to live down the street from us. Trent and Jesse have been best-friends since birth. But after Hector left... Well, Gloria couldn't afford the house on her own." She sighed and turned away. "It was unexpected, you know? Hector and Gloria Moreno seemed like the 'perfect couple.' Middle-class, two-point-five kids, thirty year mortgage... I wonder what that feels like."

"Having a mortgage?" Daria asked, settling into her desk chair.

"Having a parent leave."

Daria frowned, confused. "Your parents leave all the time."

"No, my parents are already _gone._" She turned to Daria, a speculative look on her face. "They don't leave; they return."

"That actually makes sense," Daria said. "In a completely dysfunctional way."

Jane chuckled darkly. "Dysfunction is our function." She tossed the bed-pillow at the smaller girl and grinned. "You've met my brother, Wind, right? He _thrives_ on dysfunction."

Daria shuddered. "What marriage is he on?"

"No idea. The twelfth? Twenty-fifth?"

Delaney reentered the room, water-filled coffee pot in hand. She smiled at them in greeting before turning to the coffee-maker, pouring in the water and switching it on. She pulled Pouch from her breast pocket and settled him next to the toaster with a handful of granola from the plastic sack. He munched at it, his whiskers twitching happily.

"Breakfast, Daria? Jane?" Delaney asked without turning, pulling out the bread, eggs and butter from the mini-fridge. She snatched the camp stove from the bottom shelf of the bookcase and settled it on her desk.

"Um... Sure, thanks," Daria said distractedly, her eyes on Jane's suddenly intense expression.

"No problem," Delaney said. She cranked the camping stove to 'High' and threw a dollop of butter into the frying pan.

"Delaney?" Jane said, walking slowly toward her. "You've been... getting to know Trent... right?"

Daria's interest perked up at the quiet, cautious note in her friend's voice.

Delaney half-shrugged and popped a couple of bread slices into the toaster, seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension in the room. "I s'pose."

Jane paused to regard her briefly before continuing. "When you went to wake him up the other day, did he... say anything? In his sleep, I mean?"

Delaney stilled, head cocked to the side as though she were considering something. She suddenly turned to face her querier and Daria almost gasped at the strange expression of the girl's eyes; they appeared glassy and over-bright.

Delaney regarded Jane silently for a few moments, her over-bright eyes never leaving her face. Finally, she said, "Don't ask; don't tell." Abruptly she went back to preparing their breakfasts, leaving both Daria and Jane dumbstruck.

"Food," Jesse observed a minute later, appearing in the doorway and inhaling deeply. "Cool."

"As promised," Delaney said, flipping a neatly fried egg onto a piece of toast and handing it to him. "Unfortunately, I forgot to pick up some cheese. I can only pray that you forgive me."

Jesse smiled and shook his damp hair out of the way. "Thanks, Delaney," he said, devouring nearly half of the meal in one huge bite. He ambled over to the window, perching on one of the dressers as he continued to eat at a more leisurely pace.

Delaney readied another egg-on-toast and held it up just as Nick entered. "Food! Awesome," he said, taking it gratefully.

A few minutes passed in relative silence as Delaney continued cooking for the girls and the boys finished eating. "What in the world is taking Max _so long_?" she suddenly demanded as she served Daria and Jane their breakfasts. She crouched down to rummage in her sea-bag. "Ah! Here they are," she said, pulling out a handful of blue tin cups. "Coffee, anyone?"

Just then Max traipsed through the door, whistling, a towel wrapped around his head. He stopped just inside the door as Nick snorted and almost choked on the last bite of his toast. Jesse started to perfunctorily pound on his back, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling. Jane's shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. Daria's lips twitched, threatening to curl.

"What?" Max demanded. His eyes narrowed as he looked between them. "A man can't enjoy a –"

He was interrupted by a loud collective guffaw. He scowled as Nick collapsed onto the floor, gasping with giggles, quickly followed by Jane and Jesse, their faces red with mirth. "What the hell is so funny?" he snapped, stamping his foot and glaring at them. He turned when Delaney lightly tugged the towel from his bald, freshly scrubbed head.

"Nothing, Max," she soothed, handing him his share of breakfast. She tossed the towel at the trio on the floor and their laughter finally began to subside. Max stomped over to a desk chair, muttering darkly.

Jane sat up, wiping her eyes. "Where – heh – where's Trent?"

Jesse stood and extended a hand to help her up. "Waiting downstairs."

"Could you take this to him, Jesse?" Delaney asked, pointing to another egg-on-toast and a cup of coffee on the edge of her desk. She settled down with her own cup, Pouch perched on her shoulder.

"Sure," Jesse said, reaching for them, but Jane snatched them up first.

"I'll do it," she snapped, stalking from the room in a huff. Jesse and Nick exchanged an anxious glance.

"Something wrong?" Daria spoke up, staring at Jesse.

"Huh? Oh, um, yeah..." he sputtered, looking away. He resumed his seat by the window. "Trent's just in a funk today... He gets like that before auditions..."

This last was a lie and they both knew it. Trent was prone to completely forget about auditions or appointments as he'd demonstrated more times than anyone cared to remember. Daria glanced at Nick and then Max. _They know it, too,_ she thought. _They're all on edge now... Just how bad __**is**_ _the _'real' _Trent?_

* * *

Jane tromped down the stairs, grumbling the whole way. "Stupid, sulky men and their stupid, sulky ways!" She kicked open the double doors before marching through. She stopped at the edge of the curb and looked around for her brother.

"Oww... Janey..." A low groan came from behind her. She turned and saw Trent hunched over against the wall, clutching his elbow and the side of his head. "I know I pissed you off but geez!"

Jane very nearly crossed her arms but remembered the cup of hot coffee just in time. So instead she just cocked her head to the side and glared at him. "You've been talking in your sleep again," she accused.

Trent stilled, briefly, before slowly lowering his hands and slipping them into his pockets. "So?"

"So you haven't done that for years, not since you started toking." She could see that her bluntness had thrown him off. He shot a glance at her before looking away. Sweet venom dripped from her words as she scoffed, "You really think I didn't _know_, O-Baked-Brother-of-Mine?" She shook her head and turned toward the Tank.

Trent caught up to her before she got very far. Jane, knowing his hands weren't free, wordlessly passed him the egg-on-toast in irritation, catching him in the stomach with the side of her hand. She smirked at his 'oof' of surprise. A minute later they stopped beside the Tank and Jane watched her brother pick crumbs and a few bits of egg from his olive green shirt. She managed to cross her arms while still holding the coffee and waited while he ate his crushed egg-on-toast.

"What do you want from me, Janey?" Trent asked when he was finished. He didn't look at her.

"What the hell, Trent! 'What do I _want_ from you?' What makes you – ah, **dammit**!" Jane hissed in pain as a bit of coffee sloshed onto her wrist. Trent reached out but she turned away, still cursing. She caught a look at him out of the corner of her eye and paused. He was leaning against the Tank's neighboring car, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. His face was turned away from her but she could see the tightness in his jaw, in his shoulders.

What _did_ she want? What did she _expect_? She sighed as she turned back to him and held out the coffee. "Just... tell me why."

Trent eyed the cup warily. Jane raised her brows and narrowed her eyes, a look that said, _Maybe I __**did**_ _poison it but you won't know until you __**take it!**_ He took it. "It was easy," he said, shrugging and taking a sip. "Everything's easy when you don't care."

"Fair enough," Jane conceded. "But I meant: why have you stopped?"

Trent stared at the steaming liquid in his hand, he studied the blue and white speckled paint. "...Now I care." He finally looked up at her after tucking the cigarette behind an ear. "I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time about BFAC, Janey."

Jane blinked in surprise before waving it off. "You already apologized for that, Trent."

"I know. But I never told you how – how proud I am of you. That you got there... on your own..." His ebony eyes were bright with truth; they shone with pride... and shame.

"Daria made me do it!" Jane blurted, trying to cover that shame with her own fault.

"...Well," he said on a dark chuckle, draining the last of the coffee. "Daria did a better job of looking out for you than I did."

"Trent..." She reached for her brother, hearing, _feeling_ the guilt in his words. She touched his shoulder, almost pulling back when she felt the bunched muscles quivering with suppressed emotion. "You tried."

He arched a brow at her, his mouth curving derisively as he shook his head. The message was clear: _No, I really didn't._

Her hold on his shoulder tightened. "Well, you're trying _now. _And that's all that matters."

For a moment longer, he simply stared at her. The self-derision slowly melted from his features. He placed his own hand over her, his calloused fingers curling around her wrist.

Jane smiled. "You know what I think? I think this is a huggy moment!" She pulled her hand free only to step close and thread her arms around his body. She heard the low rumble of his laugh as he returned the embrace. "I'm glad you're my brother, Trent," she murmured into his chest, the sudden unshed tears in her voice betraying just how serious she was. "I really am."

Trent felt his heart constrict. How long had it been since he'd heard that little-girl voice? How long had she been holding in those tears? _Too long, _he thought, tightening his hold on her. He pressed a brotherly kiss to her temple and vowed to never stop trying from this point on.

He had a lot of lost time to make up for.

* * *

Upstairs, three faces peered out of a second-story window.

"What are they doing?" Jesse asked, raising on tiptoe to get a better look. "Who won?"

"Move your fat head, Max!" Nick snapped. "We can't see from this angle."

"Up yours, Nick! I do **not** have a – Oh, look!" Max cried, pointing. "They're hugging! Everything's gonna be okay!"

Jesse and Nick high-fived over the drummer's head before turning back to the window. Behind them, Daria and Delaney exchanged amused looks.


	12. Episode 12: A Thorn in the Lane

_Daria: The College Years_

Episode 12: A Thorn in the Lane

By: Farren O'Blivion

"So how was your walk last night?" Jane asked, quickly picking up Daria's last discard. "Discover anything new and exciting?"

Daria flashed back to the previous night's dealings with Trent. _New and creepy, more like, _she thought. "No, not really," she said, picking up from the deck. She glanced at her friend over her cards. "Sort things out with Trent?"

Jane scrutinized her hand and shrugged. "As much as we Lanes can. We hugged. That's enough." She set down three of a kind before discarding.

"Jesse and the guys were pretty nervous," Daria continued, her voice casual, disinterested. "It's like they expected a fight to break out."

"Yeah, well, boys are dumb. You didn't discard," Jane pointed out. When Daria obliged, Jane pounced on it. "Ah ha!" she crowed, laying down three face-cards of the same suit before slamming her final card into the discards. "I gin again! I'll tell you, amiga, it's lucky we're not playing Strip Gin 'cause you'd be putting on quite a show while taking it off!"

The auburn-haired girl's face remained impassive. "You should be ashamed," she monotoned.

Jane grinned. "Of my lascivious spirit? Never."

"No, of that horrible pun. You 'gin' again? Shame... shame," Daria tutted, shaking her head.

"You caught that, huh? Curse you, Morgendorffer!" Jane shook her fist in feigned frustration. "I can never get anything over on you!"

Daria laid down her cards. "Not like with Trent, huh?"

"Meaning?" Jane arched a brow.

"That whole song and dance this morning. I've never seen you move so fast in the morning before."

"Oh. That." Jane shrugged as she shuffled. "I told you about hearing Trent and Jesse arguing at that club, right? I figure it was about the other night, when Jess passed out beside me here." She glanced up at Daria and shrugged again. "Well, you heard him last night. He wasn't exactly all for Jesse sleeping up here. I think he only agreed 'cause you'd be here, too. Well, that and Delaney kind of influenced him..."

At this, both girls looked over at the room's third occupant. Delaney Connors was stretched across the tops of the two dressers under the window, her eyes closed against the midday sun. Pouch perched on her sternum, diligently cleaning his whiskers. Faint strains of crashing music occasionally escaped the confines of Delaney's headphones. As they watched, the blonde blindly slipped her hand into a pocket and extracted a small red box. She flicked the flimsy lid open with her thumb before sprinkling the contents onto her shirt. Three or four black nuggets tumbled out. Daria and Jane leant forward to see.

"Enjoy, Pouch," Delaney murmured, voice thick with sun-sleep. Pouch immediately scampered from her chest to her stomach, snatching up a nugget and nibbling frantically.

Ah. The girls settled back onto Daria's bed. Raisins.

Jane dealt out the cards.

"Okay, I get that Trent finding you where he left Jesse would... put him off even more than he was last night," Daria said as she arranged her hand. _What a crap hand_... "But what I want to know is _how _you got there."

The raven-haired girl frowned down at her own set of cards. "I don't really know," she admitted. "He must've woken up and made the switch himself."

"Nothing else?"

Jane laughed. "Oh, come on, Daria! You weren't gone _that _long!" She playfully slapped her cards against the other girl's knee. "Besides," she said between chuckles. "With Jesse? Trent would kill him, like, literally _kill_ him. And Jess know it."

"Ah, yes. This 'real' Trent... Tell me about him."

Jane stopped laughing, all traces of mirth gone from her face so suddenly Daria was actually taken aback. She stared off into space for a moment, gathering her thoughts and memories before turning to her friend. "Don't tell him I told you," she said, compulsively fidgeting with her cards. "I don't think he'd want you to know."

"I'll try not to alert the media."

"I'm serious, Daria." The intensity in her voice alarmed Daria yet again.

"Of course I won't tell," she soothed. "I swear."

Jane stared at her for another tense, silent moment before nodding. She took a deep breath and slowly released it as she ran her hands through her hair. "Trent was... he was scary. Like, _dangerous _scary. Especially in his sleep... he used to mumble all the time, and then he'd laugh. He had... the creepiest laugh you've ever heard. It sounded so... _cruel._" Jane shuddered at the memory.

Daria felt the bottom of her stomach drop. _That creepy chuckle from last night. Jesus, don't tell me he tortured and killed the neighborhood cats, too._

"And he was just a little boy, you know? That just made it worse," Jane continued without noticing Daria's reaction. "I mean, there's five years between us so I didn't notice for a while, but when I thought back... When I was about three, I was playing on our stoop. I had a... a Mason jar lid, just the flat part, and I was spinning it around and the... the neighbor boy saw me and he came over and took it, just because he could. And, being only three, I started to cry. And Trent came out to see why... He went across the street to the boy's house and I remember the boy's two sisters opened the door. Trent must have asked for him 'cause they disappeared and... as soon as their brother came to the door, Trent punched him hard in the face. He went down screaming and crying. And Trent... he bent down and then he came back to me. He just handed me the top and went back inside like nothing had happened as those two girls tried to drag their brother inside so they could shut the door..." She gave Daria a significant look. "That neighbor boy was at least ten or eleven. Trent was _eight._ And he just marched over there and back, no problem, no fear, no reaction at all. That's not normal, you know? I mean, kids run around, screaming and laughing, right? Well, Trent never did. I remember him in the schoolyard-"

"Well, neither did I," Daria pointed out, interrupting, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. "I was always by myself on the playground. Wasn't interested in the games they played."

"Yeah, but you were a bookworm, right?" Daria nodded. "So you were at least doing_ something_. Trent would run around with Jesse, sure, but... at school he'd stand by the fence and stare, just stare, at the other kids. Like he was lying in wait for one of them to become separated from the herd or something. I remember my first day, Trent walked me, held my hand the whole way. You know he taught me how to look both ways before crossing the street? He'd quiz me at every corner." Jane smiled, her eyes far away. "He stopped outside the fence to wait for Jess but I was so excited I ran ahead. Yeah, _me _excited about school. Go figure." Her smile faded.

"I ran up to a group of kids. They started making fun of my outfit and hair. I didn't understand why; I'd styled it myself and was quite proud but hand-me-downs are embarrassing, I guess. They were all laughing at me and this one boy took it further and pushed me down. And then Trent was there with Jesse behind him. He grabbed that kid and lifted him up, _lifted him completely_ like he weighed nothing, and said, 'don't you ever touch my sister, ever again.' And you know what that kid said? 'Oh, she's _your _sister? I didn't know.' And Trent said, 'now you do' and dropped him and that kid stayed down. He crawled away, apologizing, Daria."

"_Trent_ was a _bully_?" Daria asked incredulously. She winced as she realized how shrill she'd sounded and glanced over at Delaney. She appeared to have drifted off in the noonday sun.

"That's just it! He was like the anti-bully," Jane said, shooting a quick look at Delaney and lowering her voice. "But what kid _does _that? Trent would fight anybody and everybody, didn't matter who or how many. Remember that neighbor boy that took my top? Well, he got his friends together and went after Trent. Jess, too. It was five against two." Jane shook her head in wonder. "Apparently, Trent fought so viciously that _Jesse_ had to pull him away. But when he came home, there was barely a mark on him... Neighbor Boy's parents came to our house to complain about their son's injuries. Yeah, _injuries._ I opened the door and they told me to get my parents but Trent stepped in front of me. They started to lecture him and ask him things like, 'does that make you proud?' 'are you pleased with yourself, young man?' but Trent never said a word, never even moved. He just stared at them.

"Daria... they started to _back down_ the walkway. When they got to the sidewalk, Trent shut the door and told me, 'don't open the door for strangers, Janey.' And then he walked away. But can you imagine that? Two adults, afraid of a child?"

Daria had a sudden image of a much younger Trent; shorter, with a bald chin and un-inked skin but still pale, still with bristly black hair and snapping eyes as dark as death. She looked up at Jane. "I dunno. Have you ever seen _The Omen_?"

Jane blinked but then broke into a grin. "Hmm. My brother is the spawn of Satan... Then _I_ shall be his right-hand man."

"Only with boobs and a vagina," Daria pointed out.

Jane ignored that. "_We shall rule the world_," she cried theatrically, shaking her fist at the visible heavens outside the window. She dropped her arm and frowned. "Unless... You don't think he already slept through the appointed apocalypse?" She grinned at Daria's snort of laughter and began collecting their un-played but discarded hands.

Daria watched silently for a minute before asking, "So. What happened with Neighbor Boy and Neighbor Parents?"

Jane stilled and looked at her friend from under her brows. "They moved."

* * *

**A/N: **Jane's first story is true & accurate; it's based on what happened to me when I was 2-3, only I had a sister seven years older. One of the nicest things she ever did for me, actually. Also, much of Trent's (current & future) behavior is based on that of my own sister. The group fight is also based on fact; it happened to me, I was about 9 & I was alone. They were all 10-11, all boys, and all foolish to underestimate just how vicious one lone girl could be! Can I get an **amen**?

Tell me if you get the title pun. :)


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